Dark Outside
by LunarBlade Valentine
Summary: Set a year before AC and right after the game. How did Vincent of the game become the Vincent of AC? And how did he and Marlene develop such a friendship? A story about changing and caring. VinXTifa
1. Dark Outside

**Dark Outside**

Author: LunarBlade Valentine

Description: A story about the Vincent of Advent Children. Why did he and Marlene seem to be good friends? That surprised me. How did his cape get so tattered in two years? And why, oh why are his feet so damn HUGE? I actually thought it was kinda cute that he could still move so fast with those gargantuan things... Poor Vince. ; Don't get me squealing on how cool he was when he made an entrance...

Genre: Drama with a touch of humor. Vince seems to have a good undertone of wit about him in the movie... In the two lines he talks about something other than Geostigma.

Spoilers: None, really. Vince is cool in the movie, in case you haven't seen it yet.

Notes: This is the first fanfic I wrote in, like, two years. I think I lost my writing style, and I need to find it again. Please help by reviewing intelligently!

Oh, I also gave Vincent Cerberus, the three-barreled shotgun/rifle thing he has in Dirge of Cerberus and AC. Dunno where he got it from. I can't wait for DoC!

...Why are his feet so _big_?

* * *

**Dark Outside**

It didn't take much, in the days after Meteor, to distract me. I knew that the world is different than the one I grew up in. I was a dinosaur. Obsolete and out of place. It would never be my world. It would never be home.

At the end of it all, when the celebrations on the Highwind had ebbed and everyone went their own way, I will be alone. It is what I wanted, though. There was nothing about solitude that scared me, but the thought of a tight, closed coffin. I fear I have become something of a claustrophobic. No matter.

A part of me hungered for something that no food could satisfy, and I knew that I could probably go a lifetime before I figured it out. Has it always been there? Where have I lost that drive I had a year and a half ago? A year and a half that are a generation away. A sleep that took away my generation, my purpose, my place in this world.

Had I ever a place in this world? Maybe not. I made my place with the corpses of men. Cozy and warm in the thought that I was doing something with my life. Warm blood of others to satiate a cold heart. Maybe what I was looking for was-

A tug on my cloak, and I turn. Maybe my expression showed something of my dislike of interruptions, because poor Marlene shrinks away before remembering why she drew my attention.

"Tifa said to tell you they want you to go in and have fun with them."

I don't need to explain myself to them. Especially if they could not even bother themselves and sent this 6 year old child. I look back at the waving trees. Dusk was painting them in marvelous dark inks, but I could still see details; the fading leaves of early Autumn, a pair of birds, hiding from the wind by the bark. Shadows stretching. Winter isn't far, and animals are trying to find food... May I should start finding something to hold me through winter. I don't even have a place to stay.

I'm surprised how much I don't care.

They will offer me places, and I will refuse, and they will feel that they have fulfilled their social obligation and their guilt will be put to res-

"Um."

I look. She's still there.

"I'm bored." She says.

Did they tell her she couldn't come back until she got me? That won't work. I have no responsibility for this child. If she catches a cold out here I would not loose sleep. Up here the air is crisp. I forgot how the chill bites your cheeks; I forgot how a lung full of it can make you feel like you can take on the world. Well, I'll be the last one fooled by the false promise of an empty breeze. I'll be the last to-

"Aren't you their friend?"

I sigh to myself. Silent reveries are difficult with children around.

"Aren't you happy that we won?"

We? She's six, or five, or something. What does she know of our victory? It was hollow, and the people of the world are the real winners. We have sacrificed much. We are scarred now, not only by the blows delivered to us, but by the knowledge of how this world is marred. We will never be able to simply let go, forget our sins and our pains.

"Aren't you bored?"

No. I'm not.

"Are you moping?" She asks.

"Moping?" My voice conveys some of the incredulity I felt. Insolent girl. Instead of feeling ashamed of her rudeness she merely nods and says, "I think you're moping. You're a big frowney-face."

With that my indignance disappears. It turns into mild amusement that irritates something in my stomach. I was being called a _'frowney_-_face'_. That hasn't happened since... Well, ever. A year and a half ago I was a Turk. A blue suit that meant I could kill and get away with it in a world of budding technology. Now I'm a freak and a castaway in a world where technology is dying. The most I used to plan to be by this time is _dead_.

"I'm cold." She says, hugging herself for warmth.

"Go in." I say, trying to chill her further with my tone.

"I don't wanna." She answers with eloquence, "I wanna be here with you."

If I cared enough I would have raised a brow at this, but I don't. I just turn back to the view. She can freeze, if she wants.

"I'm cold." she says again. What does she want me to do about it? I have my cape and cowl and she has a pink little dress. She seemed to figure that out, too, because what she does next almost surprises me off the side of the Highwind. She lifts a corner of my cape, ducks under it and stands close enough to be touching my leg, using my cape as a blanket.

I stared at her, but her face was hidden by the red cloth. What was she thinking she was doing? She felt warm against my leg, and the contrast sent a shiver up my spine. I blink a few times to clear my confusion and sigh. _Kids_. What did I know about them? If she was happy there I didn't mind. She could jump off the airship for all I cared.

After a long stretch of uninterrupted thought, Barret came out from the party to the deck where we were.

"Have you seen Marlene?" He demands. I feel her clutch my cape tighter in an attempt to disappear from view. I nod and lift it, revealing her. She gives a cry of disappointment and I have to repress a smile as Barret scoops her up in his big arms. She looks at me like I was a traitor. Vincent, you're a jerk. I give up and smile behind my cowl, making sure Barret doesn't see. He, on the other hand, gives me a mean glare for hiding her. I internally shrug. He can think what he wants.

With a "Come, Marlene." They were back in the party, and I stay behind. But it is colder now, and I feel a shiver start in my legs where warmth is gone, so I go back through a small doorway, trying to slink away from the hubbub.

Somehow the rest of Avalanche decided that it is in their best interest to fly around together some more. They wanted to fly from city to city and help people starting in Midgar. Since we spent weeks in the sunken submarine, trying to get rid of all the monsters, we ended up with quite an impressive financial situation. They planned on using that Gil to help rebuilt the world, and the lives of the needee. I could care less what they do. I have no claim on this money. I had joined half-way through their cause, as it were. I tell them that I will come as well. It would give me a chance to see more of the world, and decide where I want to go after this is over. I wholeheartedly deny the feeling that I was trying to delay the inevitability of parting.

By denying it, of course, admitting it.

Later that night something stupid happened. To this day I don't understand how I could have done something like that.

Cloud is with Marlene on the deck. I am by the railing, as usual, trying to stay away from any excessive attention. I played a minuscule part in saving the world. I will leave the 'heroes' to their cheering.

It was a combination of things, really, that caused the accident: It was the fact that Cloud lifted Marlene up in his arms and tossed her in the air playfully. It was the fact that it was autumn and the wind was strong. It was also the fact that Cid decided to start flying at that moment exactly. The result was Marlene flying off. Or maybe she stayed where she was in mid-air and _we_ displaced. Either way, there she is, plummeting down to an inky black forest.

And, of course, here I am, plummeting after her. Why? Because of the wind. And the ship. And my damned sense of I-Don't-Know-What that makes me do these things and then find excuses for why I did them. Maybe I know I can take the landing, maybe a part of me hopes I don't. I don't know what I'm planning. Maybe transforming after I had her? That would probably cause Chaos to eat her.

I catch her arm, almost at the tree-line, and fling her up towards the ship with all my might. I'm a good aim, and I manage to hit Cloud with her. Forehead to forehead. Serves him right, leaning over the railing while I'm falling. The last thing I see of them before I hit the branches is Cloud and her safely knocked back onboard. I hope it hurt, Cloud.

It hurts. The throw had twisted my body, so that my back is the one meeting the branches, and not my face. They tare at my cape and my back and my head and I hear something crack when I finally hit the ground.

* * *

Hi! Haven't posted anything in, like, forever! I lost all confidence in my writing in the last year- year and a half. Dunno why. Well, the best way to get over all that is to write and write and see what comes out! Here's my latest work. It has a continuation, or at least, I'm working on it. Let me know if it's something you'd like to see more of and what you might think of this style.  
Please?  
Thanks! 


	2. Infinity Point

I lay there for a long moment, trying to gather my senses and ease the pain in my body. Black flowers bloom in my vision and I feel the phantom pressure of countless impacts. When I can finally see the sky and breathe more regularly I try twitching my fingers. The metal arm is fine, only dented. I may have to re-work the wiring of the little finger. My human arm had cracked. I can feel bone protesting at any movement. Not broken, at least. It would hurt, but heal on its own. Not a bad situation. Could be worse. I sit up painfully and look around. Everything in the forest seems undisturbed. I don't want to attract any large attention in the state I'm in. I'm alright, just in _considerable_ pain. I can still faintly hear the Highwind in the distance, and then it's gone. Cloud knows I fell, they would come back.

My back is bruised pretty badly, my head hurts and I am a little dizzy. Still- nothing to worry about.

An attempt to get up makes me happy there is no one here to see me. I fall back down so fast, my cape flips over my head. I angrily toss it back and look at the offending leg that would not support my weight. My glare is lost on the grass, as my leg seems to have been torn right off. Not _too_ worrying, by itself, just annoying. It's not like it hurts. You see, my legs, for the better part from the shins down have been replaced. Thank you, Hojo. Torn metal and wires greet me where my ankle and foot should have been. I sit down and make myself comfortable. I'm not going to get very far on one foot. If a glance around didn't reveal any severed limbs, hobbling around looking for it would be an invitation for unwanted company. I prop myself carefully against a tree and wait.

As I stare at the night canopy, with a few stars daring to twinkle through the leaves, I find myself starting to wonder if they _would_ really come for me. I like to think that they would, but that was just because I am a selfish person. Nothing said they would. I couldn't hear the Highwind anymore, and nothing ever indicated that our relationship was that that they would stop their plans to look for me. I wasn't worth it. They had a good heart and good intentions; I had a bad heart and selfish intentions. I knew that, they knew that. Nothing said they'd come back.

Logically thinking they had to come back, because otherwise they'd be deserting someone, and they'd never do that. Good intentions, remember?

Maybe they thought I was fine? They have no way of knowing that I was… 'broken'. "_Vincent can take care of himself_." I heard Cloud say one time, when the odds were badly against us and we had tried to cover each others' backs.

What was the nearest town? I don't even know where I am. Damn. I should stop daydreaming.

Damn kid, damn leg, damn Hojo and damn me.

I even lost my bandana.

Two hours later I am very bored. I am tired, but the pain in my arm prevents any sleep, and the pain in my head prevents clear thought. I wouldn't want to be a midnight snack for anything, either, so I try and stay awake.

As time stretches even the pain in my arm isn't enough, and I find my eyelids becoming _so_ heavy. Sleep sounds so sweet. The night is quite, the air chilly. Nothing will try and eat me. There's hardly enough meat on me to eat, anyway. My head throbs, and my brain swims in a sea of led, dizzying and numbing.

The night seems to carry on forever. The trees sway in the cold wind, and then I feel it caressing my cold face, chilling the blood from my cuts.

Almost a conversation: First the trees move, then me. Questions in the wind, answered in falling leaves. I spend my time listening to the forest, to the creaks and cracks of dead leaves and branches. One sound in particular starts drawing my attention, awakening me from my half-slumber. A steady beating on the leaves, like heavy footsteps. With it a swishing in the trees, like something playing touch-and-go with high branches. I straighten. The sound grows near and far intermittently, but at one point it starts to come in my direction.

It grows stronger and stronger. A steady beating and a swoosh of leaves. I reach down slowly and draw my gun, my numb fingers flinching against the freezing metal. Three barrels, three chances to die. I grip the handle and stretch a finger beside the trigger. A deadly roulette awaits anything that thinks Vincent is an easy meal. I load it painfully, and wait. I don't usually keep it loaded around allies- a recipe for disaster. Especially with kids around…

It takes a few heavy blinks to clear my vision. My head feels like my brain is too big, nothing is really clear. Details appear and disappear as my eyes lose and regain focus.

Very close now... Very close... The swooshing of leaves in the branches stop, but the heavy thumps continues a bit of a ways off. So, it isn't one creature. I feel I am being watched. Something was in the trees, watching me. _Very close_. I close my eyes lightly and listen. I heard breathing, huffing, ready muscles.

I know _what_ it is. I know _where_ it is. You can tell these things in your veins, see them with your ears.

With eyes still closed I aim up and fire a single barrel. Yuffie screams as she crashes down. If I wasn't so tired, if my head didn't hurt so much, I would have pointed and laughed. Internally, at least. She swears loudly as she picks herself up.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing, Vince!" She stomps. "We're here to save you!" The thumping became faster and louder immediately after the gunfire, and now reveals itself as Cid, dragging heavy feet through the leaves.

"What happened?" He asks. She tells him I shot her. I say if I shot her she'd be dead. Cid says "He has a point." and Yuffie claims she could have dodged it.

"Let's get you back to the ship, Vince." says Cid. Reaching towards me to help me up.

"Good idea." I reply, trying to sound as fine as they want to believe I am, "Spare a leg for me?"

Cid blinks at me a moment. Not the brightest crayon in the box, that one. Brighter than most on board, save Nanaki and Tifa. He looks me over then, notices the way I am clutching my arm with my metal one, notices the tattered cape, and then his eyes widen at the sight of my new amputation.

I hate my body. Hate it. Hate it. _Hate it_.

"Holy #)!"

"If you say so." I say with a tilt of my head. I am cold, numb, everything hurts and it just makes me more tired and more numb. I want sleep. "I'd rather not leave without my leg. Spare biomechanical parts are hard to come by, these days." I can barely finish saying it before Yuffie exclaims,

"Found it!"

If nothing else, that girl is good at locating shiny objects. She hops back into view and brandishes my foot triumphantly.

"It was way over there." She says, pointing vaguely in a nondescript direction. I consider thanking her for finding it, but a wave a dizziness makes me keel over. The night forest around me dims suddenly, the world tilting a funny angle. Cid is there beside me when I come to, holding me up, looking worried. Had I collapsed? Seems that I've just slid off the tree. How did that happen? I feel my grip on my senses loosen. Damn. I hate being so weak. At least it's just Cid. At least I always know where I stand with Cid. He thinks I am a freak and a weirdo, but he accepts it. I shake my head to clear it, but it doesn't really help much. I reach up and gingerly touch the aching part of my head. My hand comes back smeared. I've been bleeding all this time? I only had time to think 'Dammit, Valentine. You're getting sloppy' before I disappeared into the infinity point that is unconsciousness.

* * *

Thanks for those reviews, guys! You have no idea how much you cheered me up! You're the best.  
You might expect the next chapter fairly soon, since this one might not have been as exciting as one would hope. I hope to have the next chapter up within tomorrow or the day after. Tell me, please, do you think this story's pace is ok so far? I'm afraid it's a little slow. Self-narration style tends to do that to me. I try and go with the whole 'stream of consciousness' thing… Gah. I have no idea what I'm doing!

Go with the flow- that's what I'm trying to do- maybe you should try it, Vincent!

Please review if you have a moment!


	3. Lies Awake

Waking up. My life seems a series of awakenings. Waking up to realize I've just had the best night of my life with the woman of my dreams, waking up to be told she died in childbirth, waking up to Hojo playing butcher with my body, waking up in a coffin, waking up to the first light my eyes have seen in thirty years then waking up to realize Hojo is dead and I'm still here.

Now; waking up in a warm bed with the hum of the Highwind around me. I pretend to continue sleeping, a trick I learned a while back. Even an E.C.G. couldn't detect me waking up. I tried that trick on Hojo a million times, trying to delay the pain, but he knew Turks, damn him to all seven hells.

You can feel with your ears, you know. You can feel the size of a room, you can feel presence. There is someone in the room, and the room is my own, on the Highwind. I give my ears a moment to adjust and wake up before I start picking out who it is. Small feet, light, confident, quiet steps. Too heavy to be Marlene. Either Tifa or Yuffie. I listen some more. Tidying things on my desk. _Not_ Yuffie.

"Tifa." I say. Holy, my throat is parched, and my voice sounds like I have been out for a while. My limbs feel so heavy. I don't want to open my eyes just yet, so I keep them closed though my pupils instinctively turn to follow her noises.

"I'm glad you're up." she says. I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm not sure _I_ am." Say I. I am under some very powerful ibuprofen; pain killers. I hear her picking up a glass and pouring some water. Instead of led my brain feels stuffed with cotton. All fluffy and fuzzy and nothing I like.

"Thanks." She says simply, placing the glass beside the bed. That's it, no explanation, no bells and whistles. She knows _I_ know what she means.

I don't want her thanking me, I didn't do it for her. Though I would, if I had to. Don't go jumping off the Highwind until I'm better, though. I think I'll limit the jumps to at _least_ once a month.

Tifa is ok, in my book. She doesn't ask anything stupid like 'are you alright' or 'that was quite a fall you had there' or anything benign like that. She just… accepts things. I like that. She is a strong fighter, and had a smile on her face through most of the horrors we had to witness. Anyone who can keep on smiling in this world, knowing what we know, seeing what we saw… Has to be commended. Not by me, of course. I'm not the type to openly praise anyone unless it's something _really_ astounding. It's a waste of breathe for anything less than _amazing_. Like Cid's proficiency with electronics and mechanics. I never got those things. Then again, I was raised in a time where a town clock was considered a great novelty. Say what you want about Shinra, they really changed the world.

"Marlene was worried sick about you." Tifa says with that smile still in her voice. I'm glad I don't have my eyes open for that smile. It does things in my stomach. Makes me want to smile back just to see her smile grow.

She probably thinks it is '_cute'_ that Marlene was worried about me. She probably thought it was '_cute'_ that I jumped to save her. I am not one for '_cute'_. '_Cute'_ is my bane. I keep quiet.

I hear her walk over to the door and open it. She says something to someone outside and then there is pitter-patter of small feet rushing towards me. Before I can force my heavy lids to open I feel a weight on my chest and arms around me neck.

Is Marlene… _hugging_ me?

Incredulous, I open my eyes. I am blinking weariness away and staring into the biggest pair of brown eyes in the world. Two brown worlds filled with emotion staring right back at me, point blank. The weight feels weird. Not unpleasant, and certainly not too heavy for me to breath… just… _weird_.

"Have you been crying?" She asks. I blink. Are kids confusing on purpose?

"No." I reply cautiously after a moment. There is a very long pause then.

I'm not used to seeing a face so close to my own. I don't move, don't breathe much. Will she startle if I move too quickly? Will she tighten the grip on my neck? I swallow hard. I never noticed she had freckles. Never had a reason to look at her long enough. I want her to get off, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I almost feel… scared.

When it becomes obvious even to Tifa that I am uncomfortable and am not going to say anything else, she approaches and asks,

"Why do you think he was crying, Marlene?" She is gently prying the kid's hands from around my neck. Tifa, you're a saint.

"Because his eyes are red."

Tifa starts chuckling but it takes me a moment to realize the child's mix-up. She is off the bed now, and my muscles relax. Kids are _odd_, and my best way to deal with them is not to. Marlene is being ushered outside, and I wanted to thank Tifa, but I didn't. The kid waves at me, and then cowers in embarrassment as she realizes I can't wave back. Tifa softly closes the door behind Marlene, through she stays in the room.

That's just how things work with me sometimes; by the time I figure out what needs to be said the silence stretches to a point where anything said would loose context, or the conversation has already shifted to a different topic. It's not that I'm slow, you see, it's just that everybody else seems to be working at a different pace than me. Words are difficult to string together. They're non-logical and cumbersome and I'm clumsy using them. There are no words to convey the truth, just words to mask it. I don't like it.

I take my time to think of things, other people just say what comes to their mind, which is usually nonsense. There's a saying in Wutai that goes something like "A proof of intelligence is silence". The end result is that I don't say much because not much needs to be said and therefore people do not talk much to me.

I watch the world spin around me, and I've yet to catch up.

Out of my time.

Out of my place.

I think the word I'm looking for is '_anachronistic'_.

I attempt to sit up, but my arm is still sore; wrapped in a sturdy bandage. It also seems my metal arm had gone missing. I stare at the stump of it for a long moment, befuddled. I usually only take it off in the shower, or for repairs. It hurts like a gun-wound to take it off, and even worse to put it back on. I hate seeing the stump. I hate feeling like a cripple.

I could ask where it was, or how long I was out, or what happened after I collapsed, but that's what everybody asks when they get up. Instead, I take the 'Vincent Approach' as I heard Tifa coin it.

I look at her steadily and wait. She comes back from the door and sits on my bed.

"Cid carried you back." She starts, "You lost a lot of blood."

To quote Tifa "'The Vincent Approach' is waiting for the obvious because it's _obviously_ going to happen". By determining that those questions are always asked, I can simply wait for human nature to kick in and fill in the blank where an obvious question should be. Most questions that people ask are only because someone _wants_ _to_ _tell_ them the answer. I just skip the obligatory asking part. I've been using this 'Approach' for the better part of our trip, and it's been working like a charm. In the beginning I didn't even notice I was doing it. It was _only_ after Tifa had mentioned it that I started doing it _consciously_. Honest.

"We were all looking for you." She adds then, quickly. Didn't want me to think it was only Yuffie and Cid? I could care less. I'm thankful enough that they wasted their time on me. "Cid took your… ah… arm and leg for repairs." How often do you get to say that to someone? She wasn't uncomfortable with the subject as much as she didn't know how to approach it. I feel a pang of irritation at Cid. Who said I need help with my arm? Certainly he's a better mechanic than me, but that doesn't mean I'm an invalid or that I should be pitied.

"You were out for two days."

Only two? Not as bad as I thought.

After a pause I clear my throat and say, "My apologies."

Tifa just smiles at me softly. The same smile every time I apologize. She knows that I apologize for being a burden, and I know her answer, her lie.

"You're never a burden, Vincent. You're our friend".

Well, in my book friends can be a damn nuisance sometimes. Besides, I'm not their '_friend'_, I'm their '_companion'_. '_Friends'_ don't turn into giant, chainsaw-wielding monsters. You don't find '_friends'_ in coffins, like a 1 Gil toy in an egg from a machine. They pity me, sometimes they fear me. I'm the unknown factor, the trump card, the ace up the proverbial sleeve. Get in a pinch? Just wait until Vincent gets beaten-up enough. Just wait until his body's self-preservation mechanisms… _organisms_ kick in. At least they don't patronize me, and for the better part they've made an honest attempt not to mention the transformations. They skirt the issue with commendable grace.

…At least most of them try to treat me like a human. They try and it makes me feel a little better. That means a lot.

"I'll tell Cid you're up. Don't forget to take your medicine. You don't want an infection." Tifa says, getting up and heading for the door again. She leaves, and the room seems really hollow, suddenly.

* * *

Yar, 'tis me again! As promised, I'm updating with this new chapter today! I hope you enjoy. I'm trying to keep uploaded chapters relatively short so that the update time will be (hopefully) reduced.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all those who have reviewed. Special thanks goes to: Yumesuta, Feather Wolf, Rey de las Ardillas, Mythrand and Tirnam'Bas; thank you for reviewing intelligently. Your reviews have inspired me to become a better writer. Please forgive me if I missed someone. Intelligent reviews help me grow! Graargh! _Power_!

…Anyway. Please expect the next chapter around Saturday. I hope not to disappoint- but all these great people leaving great reviews have startled me; I have high expectations to meet! gulp. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas.

Ever yours, LunarBlade.


	4. Shores of Vulnerability

Left alone, I exhale deeply and sink back into the pillows, relaxing. After a while I manage to get myself the glass of water Tifa had left by the bed. My arm hurts, but simple movement is possible. My fingers are free from the bandage wrapped around most of it. I can't hold anything much heavier than that glass of water, though. It hurts enough just to try and bring it to my lips. The medicine in my system makes me feel like a ton of bricks, and the water goes down like oil, sliding down my parched throat.

I drop myself back down to the pillow, soft and inviting, and occupy my muddled brain by looking out the window. By the occasionally changing angles of sunlight across the floor and bed, and the occasional slight change in G pressure I gather the Highwind is in flight.

…The Highwind. What a machine. I think I should be content to stay on it forever; never attaching myself to any specific place, coming and going from people's lives without the chance for getting hurt by the petty humanity. A wish for a more civilized time…

I remember the time when helicopters were a theory that Shinra wanted to peruse, and people laughed at the engineers and said they won't fly. Shinra built so many dreams, and destroyed so many others. I don't hate them. Never did. I have nothing against Shinra. They picked me up from Wutai and taught me how to be a team player and how to be alone. Taught me the common language and encouraged me to better my mind through extensive reading- thought me _how_ to read. Taught me to observe people and learn them. They took a lowly Yakuza delivery boy like me and gave me a profession and something really close to a life. Without them I probably would have been an ignoramus delivery boy for the rest of my miserable existence. I'm aware it was them who reduced Wutai to it's current state, but that it hasn't been home for too long for me to care. In my mind the Wutai that exists today and the Wutai I grew up in are two very different and separate places.

You want to know _who_ I hate? _Hojo_. A million times Hojo.

Say what you want about the motley Avalanche gang, without Cloud and the others, I would still be stuck in a small coffin, waiting for death. I don't know what I'm waiting for now, but I don't feel the urge to die as badly as before. I think I just want some time- some peace and quiet to think things over.

…Some 'peace and quiet' I'm not going to get right now because I can hear Cid approaching, and he is _loud_. He bursts into the room without a knock and just walks up to the bed and produces my missing limbs from a bag.

"First time doing maintenance on people." He says with a vibrant smile and little formality. No 'how are you?', no 'sorry I amputated you while you were sleeping'. Nothing.

"Not saying it's what I wanna do for a livin', but it's actually more interesting than I thought." His smile is infuriating. I'm tempted to retort with 'I'm glad I'm interesting research for you.' But I hold my tongue. He didn't mean it like that. I'm just being petty… and _paranoid_.

The arm looks much better than I could ever make it. The dents are practically gone, the bronze gleaming like new and I'm sure it works impeccably. Cid takes great pride in his work. I guess he noticed the way I admired his handy-work because he urges, "Put it back on."

I glare at him, just for good measure, then prop myself slowly so I'm leaning on the headboard of my bed. I take the arm from him carefully. It feels… wrong. Another glare at Cid shows he is waiting, expecting something. _What _is he up to?

I feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable. Here I am with my hand in my hand, my leg in a bag and my head so full of pain-killers I probably couldn't stand up if my bed was on fire. Pain-killers or no, this is going to hurt, and I don't want him to see me in pain. It was bad enough that I practically fainted in his arms back in the forest. I have my dignity, if nothing else. There is no choice, though; Cid won't give me the pleasure of keeping it. This has to be done.

Easier said- I try it a couple of times, but the hairline crack in my flesh hand is just enough to prevent the application of that kind of lateral pressure I need. I try twisting it on a few times, but it hurts my flesh arm too much and I don't have a good grip. I glance at Cid and notice he is giving me a _look_. Then he smiles and raises his eyebrows.

He wants me to say it, the bastard. He wants me to ask for his help. He always mocked the pride I took in taking care of my own business alone. Said that humans can't live in a vacuum. Bah.

I glare at him again, trying to tell him it won't happen. I won't say it. After a short while of this silent will-struggle Cid laughs and reaches out to help me. I didn't have to say it. Didn't mean I don't need his help.

Still, I swallow my pride for now and let him twist it onto the base. I look away and draw a quick breath, bracing for the pain with a tightly set jaw.

The pain never comes. My expression must show my surprise, because Cid laughs again.

"$ing Hojo," He explains at my shock- as I am flexing responsive fingers with ease, "He put a little gadget in there." He points at the wrist area, "There's a little thingamajig there to send the neural response to the fingers- it was fiddled with to make it as painful as possible." He shakes his head and draws a cigarette from his package, "Sloppy electronics, that. Zap ya when you connected." I am still staring at my arm. It feels light. I was never aware of any residual pain when my arm was on, but now that it was gone, it feels great.

"I fiddled it right." Cid says, and looks a little sheepish, as though I would be angry. I open my mouth, but it takes me a few moments and a few breaths just to muster a quiet "Thank you". He just taps the cigarette a few times on the top of its box and then returns it in.

I want to say something like "Thank you for caring enough to want to make a difference." But I don't. I don't know how to go about it and I can't think of any good way to say it. Don't get me wrong. I don't think Avalanche _hates_ me. I don't think they want me to go away forever.

Again, too long taken to formulate what I wanted to say. He gives me a long look from the corner of his eye, telling me that perhaps he understood what I was trying to say. Is he smarter than he lets on?

I'm grateful, Cid. I am. He smiles again, that long look gone, "Nice seein' you without your bad fashion sense."

I look down to see that I am wearing a simple white T-shirt. From the size difference I can assume it is his. That means my face is exposed. I don't like it. Makes me feel uncomfortable, like people might see right through me. I say nothing.

I'm not handsome, I have a bad face. It shows what I really am. I see it when I look in the mirror and _I_ don't like it. I don't like making other people see, because they don't like it either. But they don't _hate_ me, as I said, all I'm saying is that Avalanche was fine before I joined and the result would have been the same if I hadn't. If I went away they would come visit, but I would not be missed long, or often. You might say I was 'optional' in their trip. It was nice to have me as backup, but I wasn't _vital_. They could just as easily thrown away Hojo's note and left me to rot.

"….." I say, putting my claw in my lap and trying not to feel too self-conscious. I've only had this body for a year and a half, my time. Still not entirely at home with it. Still allowed to feel exposed in normal clothes. The shirt is too wide in the shoulders, too short in the stomach.

The 'Vincent Approach' doesn't work on Cid. Even if he gets it, he pretends not to. Just makes me actually say things. I open my mouth to ask 'who changed me' but it sounds dumb. So I end up closing my mouth and just grabbing my shirt, looking at Cid meaningfully. I even try cocking an eyebrow. Asshole just looks at me with fake curiosity. He wants me to say it. I yield, _this time_.

"Who."

You can get a Chocobo to the water, but you can't make him drink.

"'Who' what? If you mean the shirt, it's mine." He smiles. You know what I'm asking, jerk.

"Who…" How can I phrase it without giving him what he wants or sounding infantile? "Who cleaned my wounds?"

"Me and Tifa."

'Tifa and I' I correct internally, but say nothing. At least it was Tifa. She'd seen my chest before; she sort of took it upon herself to treat me when I was wounded during our 'quest'. Don't know why. Everyone else just assumed I was alright. She made comments about me being too thin, but never about the scars and the marks. She saw the _Cerberus III _tattoo on the back of my shoulder, but didn't judge or question. Hojo liked marking his specimens. I never asked why Cerberus, or who were the other two before me. Never wanted such a horrific answers. Never wanted to admit, to refer to myself as that. I learned to accept Tifa's nursing compulsions because she wasn't going to go away, and I tried, believe me.

I like people like her and Cid. People who just accept things and have firm opinions about stuff other people would be too afraid to speak up about. As much as Cid delights in making life difficult for me, I like him. Under different circumstances we may be friends. What different circumstances? The moment he stops being a total ass. I like him and Tifa, though. I do.

Not like Barret, who screamed and ranted and waved his gun-arm in my face when he heard I had been with the Turks. We all do what we have to. You don't see me accusing him of practically being an ecological terrorist, do you?

Either way as the day progresses I feel worse. The pain-killers I was given while unconscious start fading out, and pain starts fading in. My semi-coherent thoughts while on the pain-killers are replaced by the feverish blankness of a body too busy with itself to allow thinking.

I remember something about an operation table and needles, but it fades away as my mind reaches the shores of consciousness. I open my eyes to two pools of fine wine. It takes a moment for the picture to clear. These are eyes, and they belong to Tifa. The room is dark, suggesting a significant passage of time without my awareness. Tifa is seated on the bed again, a bowl of water and a cloth in her lap. Beside her is a Heal and Cure Materia. I feel my breath calming down from a labored pace, I feel my pulse slowing, blood rushing back and forth. Details in the room seem fuzzy and take a moment to clear. I know my eyes had been open for a while, but I can't remember for the life of me what I was seeing. I blink at Tifa. She seems worried, and the Vincent Approach yields its usual fruit, "You were unhappy there, for a moment." She says diplomatically. I think about it and decide to skip the 'when _am_ I happy' sarcasm. She cautiously reaches to remove hair from my face. She knows I'm not big on physical contact, but she does it anyway. I don't mind; the only feeling in my chest and stomach right now is the relief from a pain I don't consciously remember, but my body does and my lungs do and my arms do as they relax from clawing the sheets and my chest. I guess I underestimated my injuries again. There are several questions surfacing in my rattled brain such as what is the actual extent of my remaining injuries and how long she's been there.

"Maybe next time we recommend you take your medicine you listen?" It's not so much criticism as it is a compassionate reprimand. After a moment of fishing I remember that there was a time earlier in the day when she asked me to take my medicine, but being so decidedly against anything vaguely medical, I refused... or forgot. Or forgot in a Freudian way- deliberately dropping the subject from my mind.

I am an idiot.

I'm sorry, Tifa.

She gets up and leaves the room, but makes sure to give a reassuring smile and leaves the door open ajar, in case I make any distressed noise. I force my body to relax and take some deep, shaky breathes. The half-open door paints a streak of light all the way to the bed and reflects on the metal of my arm. The Highwind is parked and I can see some large sources of light through the window- we have probably arrived in Midgar.

* * *

Hello again! As promised; a chapter on Saturday. All in all this story isn't going to be _very_ long, I think. In terms of length I estimate it more along the lines of my Blind Love then Sether. I hope you guys are still enjoying the show! Thanks again to all those who've reviewed the last chapter. Your words of encouragement are truly affecting the way I regard my writing and my new style. The story so far has been a real growing experience for me, and I hope you'll enjoy what I have in store! I fixed the 'Tifa and me' and reposted as the correct 'Tifa and I'. Thanks, guys!  
English is my second language, though I've learned much since moving to Canada.

Today's special thanks goes to all those already mentioned plus: The Tiramisu of Impending Doom, Erialti, darkmagnolia & Mystic Dragon Eyes. Thank you very much for your kind words. They make a difference in my day to day life.


	5. Where to Put It

Tifa comes back about half an hour later. I feel much better now. Practically as good as new. Well, maybe not 'new', but more 'used, in good condition'.

She has food on a tray for me, and my brain immediately fills with mixed feelings about this; my stomach suddenly realizes that it hadn't eaten in two days, and is trying to convince my brain that Tifa is the next best thing after dead Hojos. My pride is telling me that I'm fine and could have gotten up to eat with everyone else. My self-esteem, on the other hand, argues that it's better if I eat here alone.

In case you're wondering, I actually don't have low self esteem. I simply know my worth. I think it is important to know one self. And I know that I'm far from perfect. I'm rotten. Rotten to my very core. I am marginally intelligent, yes, but so out of sync with the rest of the world that it is almost null and void.

Tifa turns on the bedside lamp, and my eyes burn. For me the light from the window was enough. She apologizes, and I assure her that it's alright. She gives me this speculative look then, and I find myself almost squirming.

"What is it?" I ask finally, politely taking the food tray from her delaying hands. My stomach is growling so loud I'm afraid she'll hear it. I try eating slowly- it doesn't matter how hungry I am- there's no excuse for rudeness.

"Nothing." She says with a smile, sitting down again. She's fiddling with her jeans' belt as she says it. It means there's something on her mind- she's bluffing. She meets my eyes for short periods of time, then finds something else to look at and tidy or adjust. Whatever's on her mind has to do with me. I give her an _Approach_ look, and she breaks into a toothy smile. She knows she's caught.

"You won't like what I was thinking." There's a teasing tone in her voice that I don't even try and resist.

"Oh?" Between bites I raise my brows at her, allowing some amusement reach my expression. She probably has some criticism on my stubborn refusal to take medicine. I don't blame her- I'd have smacked me, if I was her. She probably helped me while I was fighting an infection fever. Probably sat just where she's sitting right now… Just because of me… _For_ me. I don't want her worrying about me, and yet…

The lamp is old, taken from the Shinra mansion by Tifa herself to decorate my room. The light from it is very orange- almost like a fireplace- but steady. It makes her look mature, makes her eyes a rich wine color that's so expressive. Luckily she cuts my reverie.

"I was thinking that you're looking much better." Then she shifts in her spot and looks straight at me, eyes honest and so pleased, "Not from your fall- in general." I wait. She continues, "Ever since Hojo died." She says, not noticing (or choosing not to) as I hastily reach for my drink. Don't throw that name at me while I'm eating! I think I swallowed something the size of a golf ball. "Ever since he died you've… You've change- for the better. It's like ten years were removed from you, and all that pain and hate you had… It's like it's gone."

I stay quiet.

There's very little I can say to _that_. I don't know if she's right, or seeing what she wants to see. I eat, and pretend that my mashed potatoes need re-arranging. I make a little Japanese garden using my fork.

"What's that scowl for?" She chuckles at my discomfort. "It's a compliment." She leans towards me to try and peer into my face. I don't shy away, but I don't meet her eyes either. Yes, I know it's a compliment. I just don't know what to do or say. I guess I should thank her, but I don't agree with her. She is just saying it to make me feel better. Or something. She's just a nice person. Probably the nicest of my acquaintance.

Too slow, Valentine.

"Vincent, you're really handsome when you're casual." I almost want to tell her to shut up. I don't want to hear it. My stomach ties in a small knot and my face feels hot. "You should show your face and collar bones more often." She leans back, straightens. I follow her with my eyes. It wouldn't bother me if it was any other person. But it's Tifa. She can say it like she means it. Even when she doesn't.

"You are too kind." Is all I can muster, then I look away. I can't hide my face, and again I feel that nagging vulnerability. The knowledge that anyone can look in my face and see me as I am. All, perhaps, except Tifa. Don't raise your expectations, Tifa. I'm much worse once you get to know me. You like me because you make up the parts of me that you don't know. If only you could see…

She changes the subject, but something in her eyes when I glance at her suggests we're not finished.

"We're all going to go down to Midgar to see what we can do for them." Then she gets up and stretches, pulling her elbows above her head until her shoulder-bone pops. "You're going to have to baby-sit Marlene."

What? Wait. No. I'm surprised they would even consider something like that. The child is clearly not fond of me, and I am the last person to care for her.

…Are they _crazy_?

"We should be back tomorrow afternoon." She gets up to leave, then adds as though to reassure me, "She's going to sleep soon, so you should really only have to take care of her tomorrow."

I don't want to.

She is at the door now, and I ask quickly,

"Where is my cloak?" I guess I should call it a cape, but saying 'cape' sounds like I should have a suit of spandex to go with it. '_Super Vincent_', with awesome _Vincent_ powers: the ability to brood in broad daylight and fall in love with other men's wives.

"In the laundry." She beams at me. Insufferable woman.

"And my boot?" _Leg_. It's my _leg_. The words out of my mouth are not the ones my brain sends. I should fire my neural signals. Her smile slackens,

"Cid said he still had to do work on it. He said he'll get to it first thing when he gets back."

So he's just going to leave me here a cripple? I hate that man forever. I don't say anything, of course. What right do I have to complain when he's doing magnificent work? What right do I have to ask him to take time from helping the injured and beleaguered of Midgar to fix my leg?

Tifa leaves the room, closing the door completely. I sigh heavily. At least there'll be no one around to see me hobble and hop. Good thing my arm feels much better.

First and foremost, though, I finish the food.

* * *

Hi! Stuff is actually going to sorta happen next chapter. I deliberately have short chapters- slow pace should be taken in moderation. I think it might become a little too much otherwise.

Sorry for the slight delay in this chapter- I couldn't log in for some reason. You might expect the next chapter mid-week, if I'm satisfied with it. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. I'm working ahead of the story, changing it as I go along. I think I know where I'm going with it. I'll still be happy to hear suggestions, and as always- your reviews really touch me, each and every single one. Thank you, and please continue to let me know what you think! Anything from portrayal of poor Vincent to the pace of the story. Thanks!


	6. Blindness & Faith

It was only several hours later, well after everybody had left that I dared to leave my bed. Currently I occupy myself in the common area, reading a book about recent history. I have much to catch up on. The clock lazily advances on 11pm. The Highwind is quiet. Marlene is asleep, and there's some peace and quiet to be had at last.

I guess I should put down the book and allow myself to dwell on the bigger question in front of me; my future. I live in the past, I know. For me it feels but months away, not a lifetime. Maybe it _is_ a lifetime away. I think I might have changed since the start of this journey. It might just be me.

Sin can never be forgiven. When I was sleeping I didn't feel it. Do I really have the strength to carry on? Do I have the strength to put the past behind me? Do I have the right to? Do I have the right to continue living, well after all those I've killed are forgotten? What could I possibly do with my life now? Find a job? What, something like 'Vincent's Antique Restoration: Odds are he's older than what you have!'? I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't want to go to sleep because I don't want to wake up tomorrow. I don't want to think about this. I don't want to feel this way anymore. There's no where in the world that is my own, but my smallish room on the Highwind.

I'm so _confused_. I'm so _lost_.

So I pick up the book again and continue reading. It's much easier than facing my fears and doubts. It's much easier than admitting and letting go and moving on.

I'm not strong enough.

At the glimpse of movement I look up, and meet the gazelle gaze of Marlene. I thought she was asleep? Damn. I don't know what to do with kids…

"Is everybody gone?" She asks meekly. She's half hiding behind the doorway, peeking over and covering her mouth with a small hand.

Did _I_ ever have such small hands? I can't resist the urge to glance at my flesh fingers supporting the book. They're long and gaunt and the knuckles are big. There're creases all over those old knuckles. How old am I, technically?

When I look back up Marlene is no longer there. I am relieved.

"Whatcha reading?"

She's_ right _by my elbow!

She didn't notice my startle. Holy, how did she get here so quietly? _Damn kid_…

"A book." I tell her. She scowls at me and then forgets all about it. I swear this kid has a five seconds attention span. She climbs up on the sofa beside me. Kid, didn't anyone ever tell you that a recliner has room for one? Go sit on the loveseat.

I don't try and stop her because I figure she'll notice that two physical masses can't occupy the same space at the same time. That's physics, kid.

Turns out I'm wrong; because kids are small and… Well… she decided I'm her pillow now. She curls into a ball in my lap like some damn cat, and I slowly feel every muscle in my body tense at the unwelcome contact. Every time she's close to me I become afraid to move. I don't want to startle her or hurt her. This claw of mine is not just for show, you know.

"_What_ are you doing?" I ask, perhaps more harshly then I intend. She brings out the worst in me. She turns those innocent eyes at me, and I refuse to stop scowling.

"It's scary in my room." She says. Yes, it is frightening in there- I've seen her room- I find that amount of stuffed animals quite startling, but one assumes she does not. Else why collect them? I could never handle that many pairs of dead eyes staring at me, unblinking…

"What's scary?" I ask. Maybe if I can take away the scary element- maybe those pink curtains- she'll leave me alone.

"Nobody's coming back." She answers cryptically. Can she even _be_ cryptic? Maybe she's just dumb? I heave a sigh. She's not getting off me unless I push her, and even _I'm_ not that heartless.

"What are you talking about?" I wanted to say 'what the _hell_ are you talking about', but she's young. One should observe one's language around kids. At least, that's what Tifa keeps telling Cid.

"When it's dark outside, nobody's coming back." She explains, "I can lie there for hours, no matter where I am, but they're not coming back." She seems sad. I feel awkward. Why is she telling me this?

"Who's not coming back?" I try, still scowling.

"Daddy, Tifa, Cloud… Everyone… No-one."

"They'll be back tomorrow."

"But they're not back _now_. They might _never_ come back." She huddles into a fetal-like position.

Poor kid. Barret, you idiot. Didn't you think what the Crisis might do to a young girl? Didn't you think that being so close to everything that's happened could seriously mess her up?

I am surprised to say that I'm feeling rather angry at Barret, and rather sympathetic towards this girl's pain. Maybe it's just me.

"Why did you come to me, then?"

"You're here."

Gee, thanks.

…What did I expect?

Then she looks me straight in the eye and says with an honesty only a six years old could manage, "You're so awesome."

I'm sure I'm blushing at her blind sincerity, but I think she's too uncomplicated to notice. Of course she hasn't a clue what she's talking about, but it's still stirring to see that… that… _faith_ in those giant eyes. It's a new experience for me. She continues,

"When everybody left that time they said you won't come back. But you did, and Tifa and everyone were really happy." She beams at me. Did you know that a kid smiling at you doesn't feel half bad? Of course she's a dunce, I know. But she's still kind of… lovable for it.

For a long moment we are just looking at each other because she's expecting me to say something and I don't know what. Eventually I just repeat lamely,

"They'll be back tomorrow."

She nods and buries her head in the folds of my shirt. My stomach muscles are so agitated right now I barely dare to breathe. Are you so used to people codling you, child, that you're blind to those who don't know what to do with you? Even if I wanted to carry you back to your bed I'd have to hop. That won't make for a very comfortable ride for you or me.

"Thanks for protecting me." She says at last, rolling on her back over my legs. Get off, please.

"Don't do it again." I tell her, and watch her large eyes get impossibly larger. Maybe my tone is too harsh again? I'm always meaner than I intend with her. It's because she needs to understand that the world is difficult and that I'm _not_ a nice person. Either way it's too late because I can hear myself saying, "Do something stupid like this again and you can get killed. I won't be around all the time to save you."

Oi. Just _kill me where I sit_. And after she said she was afraid of people leaving? That was smart, Vincent.

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and I see a fear in them that strikes right to my heart- _Why_?

Holy, it physically hurts to look into those eyes. She wants me to be her hero? I'm nobody's hero. I don't need the high expectations. I didn't do it for you, kid.

I don't know _why_ I did it, but it wasn't for you.

Holy, it _hurts_. Like my heart was dunked in liquid hydrogen. My chest contracts and expands inexplicitly with pain and confusion. But I'm angry at _her_, for some reason- I'm angry at her for putting faith so dumbly, so blindly. And I'm angry at how good it feels to have someone want to believe in me, even if it's a retarded toddler.

Just then I look up and see Tifa leaning in the doorway. She has a thoughtful look on her face.

Embarrassing.

I get up hastily to greet her.

Her eyes widen at my movement.

Oops.

There's a squeal, then a '_thump'_ as Marlene hits the floor.

* * *

Right! Another chapter. Poor Marlene. He really abuses her in his mind, doesn't he? Don't mind him- he's just a grouch. He doesn't really think she's retarded, he just doesn't understand kids. I hope I don't disappoint with each chapter- please let me know if you have complaints. I'm trying to learn to take criticism better, as well…

Oh, speaking of reviews… I adore the ones that have quotes from the chapter that they enjoyed! It makes me happy and gives me a better idea of what people like. Just thought you should know.wink wink  
By the way, If you ask a question in a review I will most likely answer it when I post the next chapter.

Next chapter should be on Saturday, as usual.

There's going to be more between Marlene and Vincent in a few chapters. Until then there's going to be some Vincent/Tifa interaction! I hope you'll enjoy. I'm always afraid I'll ruin the story with each chapter... I need courage. Give me time.

Lucian's Angel87 mentioned that Vincent's legs are probably not artificial, and the claw? Who knows. I must admit that first time I played the game I was certain his legs were fake because of his ankles- they're so thin! There's no way a foot can pass through the ankle of those boots. But- shrug -Consider it something of my universe. For the purpose of this story his legs are artificial. I hope you don't mind.


	7. Idle Banter

We are all sitting at the common area. Me with my book, Tifa with Marlene. It took little to calm the child. Tifa had brought her favorite Midgarian candy; a stick with sugar on it. She brought me a chocolate bar. I haven't had chocolate since I woke up. I haven't eaten it yet because I'm waiting for my blush and humiliation to pass from behind my book. Also… I'm a little afraid to eat it- I remember chocolate as something almost divine in its flavor. I'm afraid to shatter that memory. There are a few memories like that in my head. Like love… I remember it used to feel great, but all I can think of now is the pain it can cause- Cabbages, too- I remember they used to want to make me gag. Don't know why I remember that.

"Truth is," Tifa starts, repositioning Marlene on one knee, "that Barret sent me here to make sure Marlene was ok."

"…Doesn't trust me?" I raise an eye brow. She can see just my eyes from over my book. I made sure of it. Some semblance of a cape-collar in a form of a book. Tifa seems embarrassed for her friend. Or maybe for herself? I never bothered to inquire if _she_ trusted me.

"Nothing like that." She's quick to say, though she averts her gaze, "He's just really protective of you. Isn't he, Marlene?"

The child smiles. She seems not to harbor any hard feelings towards my earlier treatment of her nor towards Tifa's laughter thereafter. Tifa was laughing at _me_, anyway. She looks back at me and says with a lovely smile,

"To quote him; 'he didn't want anything funny happenin'."

"But I'm all _about_ funny." I protest, and look at her as she laughs. I'm glad I can make her laugh sometimes. She needs to laugh more and don't mind the sound of it.

Marlene says she wants to stay up, and to my mortification, Tifa allows it. They both swear via their pinkies that Barret will not find out. They try and coerce such nonsense out of me, but I ignore them; pretending to be engrossed in this book. They give up, knowing that their 'secret' is safe with me.

Tifa seems a little tired, but that's to be expected.

I'm getting to the terribly drawl periods of the book; the ones after Shinra's war with Wutai. The war itself was interesting to read about. I'm from Wutai, as you know, and it was nice to have an explanation to the state of the city. Admittedly it struck a cord to see my hometown thus reduced, but it was my hometown so long ago… I'm not sure I'd even recognize my own home if I past it by. Last I've seen of 'home' and 'family' was when I was fifteen.

…I wonder if anyone I know is still alive?

That though strikes me just as Tifa addresses me about my health, and I file it aside to examine later. Maybe I should go back there and check on things- for curiosity's sake.

"How is everyone down there?" I ask in way of conversation, after assuring her that I'm fine. I'm not _lying_ when I say it because the nagging pain is too trifling to mention.

"Fine." She says with an imperceptible sigh, "Busy."

"How are _you_?" I ask from genuine concern. She's a friend. I don't want to see her down.

"Fine." She lies. I look back to my book so I might debate the conundrum: Do I press the matter with the chance of upsetting her, or do I let it slide? A part of me argues that if she needs my help she'll ask. It's none of my business. She's a strong woman. She won't appreciate my nose in her affairs.

It's probably nothing.

Now I'm staring at the book, eyes passing over lines of ink that would have meant something if I bothered reading them. The scribbles turn into a snake that eats at my concentration.

What's _bothering_ her?

…I don't think I'm going to get a lot of reading done.

I glance up to see what the girls are doing: Marlene is playing with the TVs remote, just pointing it at things and making laser noises. Tifa I find sitting on the loveseat, hugging her knees. He gaze is on me, but really through me. I'm not sure if she's staring at me or even seeing me.

"Let's play something." She says distantly.

"Alright." Say I, uncertain what she has in mind. I can't even remember when I played a game last.

"How are you at Trivia?" She's chewing on her bottom lip.

"Lacking." I was out of the loop for almost a generation.

"Great!" This, to my dismay, cheers her up instantly. She gets up and bounds to grab the game box, Marlene hot on her heels to help.

She brings out a dusty old box that Shera had given us a while ago. It has the words "Esoteric Pursuit" on it. I raise a brow and straighten from my lax sitting position into something a little more attentive. I'm not much for games.

I glance at the two giggling girls from the top of my book and suppress a sigh.

They briefly explain the rules to me and then they insist that my book will give me an unfair advantage. I concede after a short debate to read a different one. Tifa shoves something called 'The Count of Monte Cristo' at me. Apparently it became all the rage a few years after my entombment.

I only half pay attention to the game as it progresses. Tifa said that I'll like the book; she said that the hero and I are much alike.

Even half noticing I still win the game. Considering it was an old version, and considering I smartly avoided any questions about technology I was rarely stumped for an answer.

The girls are visibly frustrated by my easy win- or maybe they're just agitated that I pretend to be smug about it.

"Honestly, Vincent," Tifa says, "Is there anything you _don't_ know?"

I give her a wide eyed look from the top of my book. She's kidding, I assume. I don't know _anything_: I don't know what's bothering her, what she's thinking, why Marlene is so confusing, I don't understand have the gadgets of this age, what _She_ was thinking when She married Hojo, what possessed Hojo to do all those atrocities…

And most of all; I don't know _me_. I don't know what I'll be doing in a week. I don't know where I belong. I don't know if I'll ever die of natural causes, I don't know how my body really works. I don't know why I hurt, I don't know what I'm looking for. Winter is coming and I don't have any food for my heart and I don't know if I'll survive it.

Silent, I return my attention to my book.

After a short while I hear,

"Join us?" From Marlene. A peek over the book reveals that the girls have cleared the coffee table and were now setting up a game of… Candy poker?

Is this really good for the kid? Sure, the chips are now colorful pieces of candy, but the ethicality of teaching a mere infant the intricacies of poker seems debatable.

"No." I answer. I had enough foolishness for one night. I just want to read my book. I want time to think and be alone. Or to pretend that I'm thinking and find distractions from the real issues…

Tifa says to Marlene, "Don't ask him to join; he probably _sucks_ at poker!"

"_Excuse_ me?" I look up at her with a leveled glare. When I was younger I loved gambling. Being poor, the idea of becoming unhealthily rich just for a stroke of luck appealed to me. Then I joined the Turks and learned how to read people. Poker soon became my favorite game, and then soon after my least. No one likes a winner.

Tifa meets my glare with amusement all over her face. Great, I was just goaded into the game. She knows I can't back off now and keep my honor.

"Very well." I make myself more comfortable in my seat. To prove my indifference to their little mind tricks and games, I put my one remaining foot on the coffee table, keeping the other one comfortably stretched under it. I reach out and gesture for the cards with the most confidant gesture I can remember. I heard Cid say something once that fits this situation: 'bring it'. I can win even while reading my book. I'll show these upstarts what happens when you mock a Turk. Ex-Turk. Whatever.

I was expecting Tifa to teach the child the rules, but I admit I was surprised when said child was shuffling the cards with a dealer's expertise and ease. I guess I should expect her to know about these things- she was a bartender at Seventh Heaven, wasn't she?

We're playing Costa Del Hold'em.

After a few rounds I start winning and decide not to stop until I prove my point. However Marlene gives me these terrible puppy-dog eyes every time I take candy from her. What am _I_ supposed to do about it? You should stop loosing and then eating what you have left. It's not my fault a six years old doesn't have a poker face.

Fine. Fine, fine, _fine_! I'll loose a few games for you. Just… Just stop staring at me like that.

Tifa, you need to teach the kid to lose with dignity, and to stop eating her playing chips.

"How are you so _good_?" Tifa demands at one point, throwing down her Straight when I nonchalantly display my Flush. "Even _if_ I call your bluff though that poker face of yours- you always know when to fold! It's almost as though you know what we're holding!"

"Yeah!" Marlene pipes in angrily.

I give them each a steady look, trying my best to look as snooty as possible without actually changing my expression. "Tifa," I begin, giving the brunette my attention, "You play with your belt when you're bluffing." She gives a start at that. "And when you've got a good hand you'll lick your lips. Marlene," I feel ridiculous in contrast to her simple, pleading look, "You're as easy to read as this book." She blinks at me, then blushes. "Besides," I add and cannot repress a smirk, "I count cards."

"_What_!" Tifa's expression is priceless. I'm pretty sure she wants to hit me. It's something between astonishment, rage and laughter. That's what you get when you play with a cheating Turk. The rottenest Turk that ever did rot.

By the end of the game all candy ends up in Marlene's stomach and she falls asleep. It's almost 1:00am, and Tifa carries her back to her bed.

* * *

.

Hey, everybody! Another chapter as usual. I'm thinking about a sequel already. Let me know by the end if you'll read a sequel?

I was surprised by the guilt people had over laughing at Marlene's fall! I was amused. I'm glad I affected people in this way. Yumithebutterfly mentioned that she thought the story was funny. Do you think it's more funny than serious? Is it the right balance? Do the dramatic parts have adequate impact? It's going to go on a bit of a more serious tone for a while- but I'm wondering if even the serious parts are too light-hearted. I wonder what the… 'flavor', I guess… what the flavor of the story is. I have it so set in my head that it's hard for me to say. Please help?

Some people commented on the fact that Vincent sounds a little different in the previous chapter. There are two reasons for that; One is that I'm trying to have him slowly change. Perhaps I'm doing too fast if people can tell… The second reason is that Marlene confuses and irritates him- being confused is really hard to write in first person (For me at least…!). I'm trying my best, but we'll see how the reaction is to this chapter and the next ones.

To answer Tolea's questions:  
-We will only see a small fragment of Vincent's past. It's because he doesn't like thinking about it. The possible sequel might deal with it a lot more…  
-I believe firmly that Vincent is Sephiroth's father.

Today's additions to the eternal thanks list are: Sonicron, SilverPurity & Cal reflector. You are added to the ones who have previously and currently hold my undying gratitude. Your words are a gift to my soul.  
Oh, and thanks for the extra cookie, Tiramisu! Yay! I get cookies… _munch_… _munch_…


	8. Her Tears

I put my cards on the table with the rest of them, trying to stack them nicely with a metal claw. It doesn't work. I lean back painfully. As much as I'm feeling better the pain is still substantial. Honestly, I can be so spoiled sometimes. My cracked ribs will mend just as fast if I don't complain about them.

I lean my head on the back of the seat and stare at the walkway above. It leads to the cockpit. How many hours did I spend there? How many hours was I to be found standing on the lower section of the bridge, by the computer that calculated the engine pressure.? Now that it's quiet again my spirit sinks. It does that. I'm horrible when it comes to these things. I can forget my sorrows for a few moments, only to have them fall upon my head more heavily than before when I remember them anew. I hate this feeling. I feel my muscles tense again; I feel my heart pinch in my chest. It makes me feel dirty and worthless. I cannot help but replay every moment of the last few hours. I replay everything I said and everything she said. Holy, I'm an idiot. I sounded like a complete moron in at least twelve different occasions. I should exercise shutting up more. Little things I said or didn't, things I should or should not have done. But I had fun. I really did. For a moment, while ousting these two girls in Poker, I forgot. I felt… Free? I try and remember the last time I played poker with the rest of the Turks…

I haven't thought about it. Not really. It hasn't sunk in. Just thinking about them triggers a painful burning in my chest and behind my eyes. All of the people I considered 'friends'… They're all gone.

Sometimes I wonder if she doesn't just spend time with me out of pity or the great kindness in her heart.

Self pity is not something I condone. I _hate_ wallowing, I do. I just can't help myself. I cannot see a single redeeming trait in my character. I'm selfish, moody, self-involved, negligent and down right unpleasant company.

One of these days Tifa will notice and waste no more time on me. Every instance we spend time together I'm afraid she'll learn I'm really like and turn away. All of them. All of Avalanche.

They're only my 'friends' because they don't know me. If they really knew me they'd turn away. If they knew not only what I've done, but also what was done _to_ me.

I hate hating myself, and that just makes me hate myself more. I hate all this hating. I just don't know how to stop. Sometimes I wish I never existed. More than just 'never born' I wish I had never existed. But I do. I painfully, regrettably do. See? I'm wallowing again. How do I stop? How do I let go of the past, of who I was? How do I let myself find out who I can become? How do I move on? How can I be free of an eternal Sin? And there's something else, something I feel and don't want to think about because it will erode the last of my strength and I'll collapse into a useless heap…

Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm watching myself from outside my body. It's almost as though I'm looking at myself, waiting for me to feel something. Most of the times I just point and laugh at myself. How could I not- if someone knew how wretched I am- they'd laugh too.

Disconnected. I feel… Disconnected.

Anachronistic.

Lost.

Where am I? On the Highwind. What am I doing here? Cheating at cards. Where am I going? To the bathroom.

That's about the extent of my life right now. Hobbling on one foot towards nowhere.

When I come back to the common room I wonder if I should just retire for the night. It's getting late. I'm not tired, but…

I should leave tonight. I think it would be best. Everybody's gone. The festivities are over. No one would see me and no one would miss me.

Then Tifa walks back in. I sit down again and bury my face in my book.

Damn. I guess I missed my chance, for now.

She looks distressed, preoccupied and distraught. Not specifically in that order. She looks worse than before.

To help someone close is to hide your troubles. It's to be strong enough to help carry someone else's burdens, while not showing your own. In a way, it's like a game of poker; you need to know what to share, what to hold and how to see what the person in front of you has on their mind. I wish I could help you, Tifa. I wish I had the strength.

I smell clean laundry just as a feel soft cloth brush my feet. She spread my cloak over my outstretched feet. It looks much cleaner, I must admit.

Holy, it's gotten so torn and tattered. It's starting to look like my mind; frayed at the edges and in need of someone who can mend the seams.

She then sits back on the couch across from me and goes back to hugging her knees, her eyes lost in thoughtful wandering.

We stay in quiet contemplation for a long while. She in her own thoughts, me in my book and my brooding.

The clock just passed 1:30 when I say,

"Any more sighs and you'll hyper ventilate."

She gives me this weak smile that's supposed to convince me that she's alright. My worry doubles, and my previous troubles are put aside. Her face looks haggard. She's hugging her knees so tightly, and as I look at her I see her lower lip fighting tears.

I have never seen her cry. The only time I've ever seen her shaken like this was when we had found Cloud at Medeel.

Cloud. It has something to do with Cloud.

The _bastard_ had hurt her.

I shuffle though question in my head. Something neutral, something she can back out of, something non-intrusive. The questions cause a traffic jam in my throat and all I manage to come up with is;

"What happened?" I ask even as I feel my heart clench with concern.

Maybe she was searching for the same peace and quiet that I am. Maybe she just wanted to get away from it all. Maybe the stress of saving the world had finally caught up with her. That smile is still present, and she bites her lower lip. She won't let a single tear come out. She's stronger than me. Stronger than anyone I've seen. It's really heart-rending to see her like this.

I sit up, leaning on my knees with my claw. I'm wondering if I should go and sit beside her? No. She won't accept such comfort. It'll be insulting to her pride. At least, that's what _I_ would feel. I'm half tempted to leave, to let her deal with her pain alone, because that's what I would want in her situation; not to appear weak in front of anyone. It's also because I don't want to see her in pain. I don't want to care and worry about her. I don't _have_ the emotional strength. I can't deal with it. I can't deal with anyone else's burdens. Yes, to be a friend one must swallow one's own problems- but you don't see me bothering anyone else with mine, do you? I can barely live with myself… But she looks so miserable, to leave her will be to leave my heart here- torn from my chest.

What are my worries compared to hers? How do I dare feel sorry for myself? Here is a girl torn by love, by seeing the world she knows fall apart and get ripped to shreds. I mourn a world that no longer exists. She mourns for the very real pain around her.

I'm a selfish bastard.

"…He's gone." She chokes out. I can see she's at the point where speech hastens tears.

"He is?" I ask with incredulity before I can stop myself. Yes, Valentine, she just _said_ he was. Idiot.

She just nods, her lip quickly loosing ground against the flood of tears. He is always the eccentric one, that Cloud.

Oh, perhaps I've just called the kettle black? It doesn't matter. He did mention something about taking the bike and going on a long trip. Has he done that? It must be more than that to cause her such pain.

Maybe he's gone for good, or maybe he just needs time to find himself and doesn't know when he'll be back or where he'll end up. I respect him, but I never understood him.

Damn you, Cloud. You shouldn't hurt her: She who has been beside you all along, she who would have given everything to be with you.

Marlene was right. When it's dark outside, you don't know who's gone for good.

_Oh Tifa_, I sigh, _I'm sorry_.

"We talked and he was so cold." She's openly crying, "I know he's just running away from it all, but he was so cold…!" Her eyes are closed so tight, "I offered to come with him, but he said someone needs to take care of the kids left behind by Meteor. He _knew_ I couldn't walk away from that. He _deliberately_ said it so he could go alone!" I look away briefly, trying to find courage to look at her sorrow, "I wish I could be like you." She sobs, "I wish I could be strong and never give in to grief and pain." She buries her face between her knees as suppressed sobs wrack her body. "I wish I could be so brave that I could still know what's the right thing to do, despite anything!" She missed my startled expression. Still, if the pretense of strength gives her courage, I'll pretend until I'm dead.

I stretch my good leg, then shift my weight to it, easing myself across the short distance and sitting on the sofa beside her.

Words are difficult. There's nothing coming to mind, so I say nothing. Eventually I recall something my brother once said to me;

"You cannot live people's lives for them. Even if you know what they're doing is wrong… All you can do is tell them that. They have to realize it on their own."

Then there's silence. I'm not sure if I just wasted breath or not. Probably did.

At a loss, I drape my cloak around her shivering shoulders. She is crying silently into her legs and hiccups her thanks. I nod even if she's not looking at me.

So I'm sitting here like a dimwit, hands clasped between my legs. One arm encased in bandages, the other in metal. Neither is fitting to be put on her shoulder. Will that even be an appropriate form of comfort? I don't remember how these things work.

She cries on, and I don't know how long. Each sobs tares my heart, and my mind plays before me every sob I have heard in my life. From my own pitiful wails on the operation table or the coffin, to my mother's quiet pain, to _Her_ tears at a choice that'll tear her apart…

And every tear had my reflection in it, helpless and weak.

* * *

..

Wow! Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Over 100 reviews! W00! I hope I can express my joy and gratitude well enough, else I'm doing you all a grave injustice. Thank you. All of you.

Tiramisu mentioned that these little author's notes are "helpful". Do people agree? Do you want to hear more about the creative process and the reasoning behind choices? I'm not sure in what way these are _helpful_. ;

Thanks for all the feedback regarding the balance of the story. It's good to know that it's a mix that people enjoy. This chapter has been mostly serious (that was my intention, anyway!), so I hope it is also pleasurable to read. Keep the feedback coming, please!

Regarding the sequel: Well, this story takes place soon after the game, about a year and a half (or two) before AC. I was thinking that the sequel will be right _after_ the movie.

Now about poker: I know it's been done to death, but I haven't seen many (or any?) in which he _cheats_. It was an internal debate for me. I wasn't sure I should put that in, but I thought about it and looked at the pacing and figured a cheating Vincent will perhaps ease the cliché of his poker-playing.

A teacher once told me you can only write about what you know. For example; you can't write an evil character well without knowing evil yourself.  
I'm wondering what does this Vincent mean about my personality? ; I'm a little scared. To write in first-person I need to draw on real emotions, but I'm wondering if I'm drawing from my own emotions, or from other sources around me? I'm wondering where _this_ Vincent is coming from within me.

My heart is brimming with gratitude I don't know how to express… I started this story so afraid and uncertain and now I feel so happy to be writing again. Thank you.  
The thankyouthankyouthankyou list grows longer with every chapter:  
BabyGurl278, DemonSurfer (Axel and Reno rock!), LilTigre & raggedywings.  
Darknightdesitny; it is a true honor to have you review my writing, since I've been great fan of yours for a long time now. I bow before your superior skillz and thank you for your intelligent review.

To Feather Wolf whose cookies I cherish in my stomach forever: If had "Melodramatic self-inflicted comedy" section that would _totally_ be the genre of this. I laughed when I read that.  
As it stands now… It changed a little from my original idea, but I think the 'romance' comes from the style and Vincent's thoughts. Does 'romantic' always mean 'love'? I think wishing for the impossible and dreaming is considered 'romantic', but then again, my English might be a little off there.  
Also; thelittletree made me re-think and re-love VinTifa, too! Go thelittletree.  
And: I've actually written a Vincent/Elena story, but it was, like, 8 years ago and it's so bad it makes you want to cry… Poor 'Blind Love'… had to suffer my teenager years…

_To everyone reading_- unless something far beyond my control happens, I _will_ finish this story. I promise! I will do my best to update steadily every Saturday or as soon as I can. I make this solemn promise to all those who took the time to peek into my heart by reading this tale.

Do a lot of people really read all this 'afterthought' part? I wonder…


	9. Quandary Lullaby

I don't know how long it took her to calm down. I didn't move. I'm still here on the couch. Not because I want to be, no. I want to run. I want to go away and let her deal with it. I don't want to know she's sad because _I_ can't cheer her up. She can't just _expect_ me to comfort her. I'm notorious in my social ineptitude. I don't even know if she meant for me to see her breakdown. I'm not used to feeling strongly about something anymore, and I'm not sure I want to be reminded how painful caring about someone can be. Dammit, Tifa! Find someone else to be your shoulder to cry on. Someone who can actually help you.

"Sorry." She says after a while. I merely shake my head. I want to say that she shouldn't apologize for being heartbroken, that it's her right to cry where and when she wants. I want to, but I don't. She says,

"I mean, how can I sit here and cry like a baby after all you've been through?"

Me? What do I have to do with it? I just happened to be here when she was sad.

"Misery is not a competition," I say quietly, not sure how she'll take it. "and I do not have a monopoly on it." I gather some words and some courage to add, "Besides, I had a pleasant evening."

"And I've gone and ruined it!" She starts hiccupping again, and I give another start. That's not what I meant! Damnit, Vincent!  
"It-"  
I don't want her to feel _worse_!  
"It isn't ruined."  
No, wait-  
"Not that watching you cry is something I enjoy."  
But-  
"Not that it's a bother, either."

I could continue to make a fool of myself but she chuckles softly.

"You're so strange." She leans away from me to put her head on the arm rest. Her legs are folded under her beneath my cloak, though her toes are not covered. I wonder if I should move the cape to cover them. She has small, pink toes and she clenches them against the cool air of the room. I almost forgot what toes look like. They look rather silly, don't they?

Her eyes are swollen and bloodshot. She looks miserable, but past the worse of it for now. I just meet her eyes and wait. She muses,

"Sometimes it's like you couldn't care less about any of us, and sometimes you're so kind…"

I remain silent. I don't like talking about me. I don't know how people see me. Yes. I admit that I _might_ care for Avalanche, no matter how much I deny it. But I don't want to get too close because the separation is inevitable and I don't want it to hurt any more than it aught to.

I'm not afraid of solitude, as I said. So what am I afraid of?

What _am_ I afraid of?

The question is not one to which the answer is a mystery. I fear many things. The real question is dare I admit them. At the moment I'm afraid of feeling too much, and by fearing it, I feel too much. A lethal situation, that.

"You're so secretive." She continues, "I can never tell what goes on in that head of yours." She snuggles into my cape, the pink toes are gone, and I drop whatever thoughts I had of taking my cloak back. It is still slightly warm from the dryer- let her enjoy from it the warmth that _I_ cannot offer. I haven't the heart to take it away from her.

…_Heart_. Bah. Mine has withered away long ago. But she reminds me of times when it beat with excitement, with feeling, with passi-

"Secretive?" I ask, deliberately stopping that train of thought. "It is not my intention."

"It isn't? You could have fooled me." She smiles. I don't talk if I have nothing to say. Is that being 'secretive'? If there's a box in front of you, and you don't upon it, is the box being _secretive_?

"If you have a question I'll answer it." I dare her. Most of Avalanche wouldn't know what to ask, anyway. Most of them will fear the answers I might give. Few would dare open the box, fearing to find it once belonged to a girl named Pandora.

Besides spending a few months as a human pincushion I'm not a very interesting person, I'm afraid.

She thinks about it for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully. I try not to squirm. Tifa, if you look too hard you'll see the sign that says 'Here there be monsters'.

"I think I might." She takes up the challenge with that grin that looks so… "Someday I'll make you sit down give me your life story." _Gulp_. Why on Planet would she want to hear about _that_? "But first; I want some of that left over macaroni that Shera brought."

I automatically get up, and she raises momentarily, concern on her face. I believe she meant _she_ will go and grab it, but I won't let her. I fight back a wave of nausea as I straighten. I'm feeling gradually worse, but it's probably because it's getting late. I'm not an invalid. I can get you something from the kitchen. I'm not useless, nor am I that weak that I would need help doing something so simple.

I hop to the kitchen. She leans back unto the couch but keeps a wary eye on me. I open the fridge (what a useful appliance!) and take out the requested leftovers.

"You're very graceful- I could never move so well on one foot." She comments. I really need to make her stop complimenting me. It makes me _uncomfortable_.

"I'm an acrobat." I answer, "Aerobatics is what I do."

"What does it feel like?"

It takes me a few tries to open the plastic container with my claw and hurt arm.

"Pardon?"

"The… Your legs."

I empty what's left of the macaroni and cheese on a plate. It's sort of amusing that the cold contents are still shaped like the container. Upside down cake of noodles and cheese, wobbly and semi-solid. There must be something very wrong with me if I'm amused by _cheese_.

I stare at the next appliance in the process with suspicion.

"Feels like walking on stilts." I answer with deliberate lack of infliction, remembering despite myself the dreadful feeling of waking up and finding myself a double amputee. Reduced to an animal…

"Does it hurt?" She asks carefully. I poke at the contraption a few times, trying to coerce it nicely to work with me. It bleeps in protest, but remains otherwise unimpressed by me.

"Only in the beginning." Why won't this thing work? It's bleeping and beeping, but not working. I don't understand it.

"But when you joined us-"

"I faked it." Would this damn thing stop making noise and start warming food? I've never used it myself, but I've seen Tifa and them use it. It didn't seem this complicated. One of these buttons should start a fire, or something.

I can feel Tifa's surprised look on me.

"I didn't learn how to walk properly until we got to Rocket Town." That's why I spent so much time in the air, jumping and suchlike. It was easier than trying to maintain a good walk cycle on these things. It was less painful.

She's staring at me, I can feel it, but I can't tell what she's thinking. When I glance at her, her expression is just thoughtful and tired. They probably thought I was showing off, when in fact standing was the only thing I could have done without fear of falling on my face. I'd jump from place to place. Silly, yes, but got me mobile again.

"'Cook', 35 seconds." She pipes in. _Thank you,_ Tifa, maybe _you_ can speak the magical language of this piece of technological refuse, but I _can't_. It takes a few moments of scanning the various buttons to find 'cook' and it all works out from there. Oh. That was easier than what I was trying to do. I guess there's no fire in it. Nothing needs to heat up? Really? How novel.

She's kind enough to cover her mouth with my cloak as she laughs.

Everything happens so fast in these times. From the changes in the world to the cooking of the microwave.

I bring her the food and she eats quietly for a while, chewing and looking at me. She looks rather small in the folds of my large cape. I'm glad to see she's feeling better, or at least not thinking of her troubles for now.

"Thanks for your help." She murmurs between bites. Even _I'm_ feeling better at seeing her better.

"I've done nothing worthy of note." Holy, that sounded stuffy.

"What are you going to do when it's all over?" She then inquires. "I mean, in an ideal world, what would you like to do?"

I swallow hard. Why did she have to go and ask _that_? She's probably just trying to think about other things, and not him. I know how you feel, Tifa, but you can't escape the pain. When you ignore it just builds a home in your heart and before you know it there're penthouses of pain. What _would_ I do in an ideal world? The first answer that pops in my head is not the right one.

Be with Her. Make Her happy.

That's what I would have answered every moment of my life from the moment I set eyes on her. But is it really what I want these days? Or is it what I'm used to thinking? She's… She's made it clear what She wants with me when I saw her again in the cave.

What do _I_ want?

What _do_ I want?

"I… Don't know." I say. "I want somewhere quiet to think, I guess." Somewhere people don't ask me questions I don't have the answers for.

"I think that's the first time I ever heard you say that you want something."

I look at her inquiringly. What does she mean by that? I wanted plenty of things since I've woken up.

"You never ask for anything." She explains, "You never complain, you never demand, you never yell." She takes in a breath; her eyes are half-closed from exhaustion. She's beautiful. "You're never angry or sad, you never give up, you never stop fighting until you're down…" Yes, well, the line between bravery and stupidity is thin, and I am well past it. What's with the psychoanalysis? I guess even talking to me is better than a heartbreak. To my discomfort she says, "Remember that time against the Tonberry? In the Northern Cave? You took that Knife attack for me."

"The Cover Materia made me do it."

"Liar." She smiles. Her eyes are closed and her voice is soft, "I know for a fact Cloud had it…" And she's asleep.

Thank goodness, I sigh in relief. Sleep is the only reprieve from the pain of the heart. I'll let her sleep as much as she wants.

She complements me far too much and for things she really aught not. Heaven's forbid, I'll get used to it, and there where will we be? We'll have a big, fat, spoiled Vincent, that's what we'll have.

* * *

.

Another Saturday update. Slowly working our way forward, we are. As the story's shaping up right now, we're at about the half-point. Considering the slow pace of the story- the next half builds towards the climax. I hope you'll enjoy it.

I opened a forum called 'Soul Writing'. I don't really know why I opened it, and there's nothing in it, but I thought maybe I could open a more… well… open channel to talk about creative processes. I'll be checking it at least once every two days, so it'll be a much faster way of communicating than this 'afterthoughts' section. So… If anyone wants to say something there or ask me anything at all:  
http/ story is such a challenge for me! I hadn't had this much fun writing in a long while. My question to the readers today is: In the beginning this story was in your usual past-third person style. Then I decided to change it to present-first person. Do you think the story would have worked in third person? Do you like the fact the Vincent's talking about what's happening _now_? Please let me know what you think. You can answer in the Forum or in your review.

Darknightdestiny: Congratulations for the new baby! I'm sure he/she will have a great life and grow up to accomplish great things. Please let me know if it is a boy or girl, ok? Health and happiness ahead!

LilTigre, thank you for your intelligent comments. I re-read that many times, trying to internalize and learn from it.

DemonSurfer: It is an honor for me to receive your 1000th review! Thanks. It means a lot that you should choose my story. Thank you.

Tolea: Vincent/Aeris? I don't know. I could never really see anything between those two. I mean, I love '_I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields_', but that's about my extent of the pairing. What I'm trying to say is I like reading certain stories about it, but never really thought of attempting one myself. I guess if an inspiration bunny bites me I'll write something.

I'm glad how people really liked the 'I'll pretend until I'm dead' comment. It's interesting how I can write something and not think much about it, and then see how people react to it. Please continue letting me know the phrases and sections that affect you. It is such a good feeling to know, and I feel that by studying these and their location and pace, I can learn how to become a better writer.

And since I got positive feedback; I will attempt to add insightful author's notes at the end of every chapter. By 'insightful' I mean I just ramble. As always.


	10. Dilly Dally

What do I do now? The festivities are over. The rest of Avalanche are gone. Technically this is the ideal time to slip out unnoticed. In any other situation I would have used this exact moment to grab anything I need and leave without a trace. I would break into Cid's room and take my leg, grab a few supplies from the kitchen and be off. There would have been nothing anyone could have said to make me stay. Nothing. Any other day I would have done just that.

I don't know where I would have gone, and it wouldn't have mattered. I would just be away from here. I would remember their company with fondness and nothing else. I would know that in their minds I was just aloof-old-creepy-Vincent, but at least I won't be remembered as something much worse.

…But he just _had_ to leave. She just _had_ to confide in me. She just had to cry, hadn't she? She just had to imprint that crying face into my already tear-laden memories. Don't you understand I would have been gone by now?

Unable to take her sorrow-stricken face, now in peaceful slumber, I get up, snatch my book and am about to head to my room when I hear a noise.

Someone is walking above us on the walkway to the cockpit. Heavy boots, steady steps. Someone's trying to be quiet but there's a sense of urgency in those footfalls. I look up and just see the bottom of military boots. As the unknown intruder walks by, I ready myself and jump.

Injured or not, necessity takes precedence.

I land with a grunt despite myself. My lungs scream at me, and my remaining leg threatens to follow in the path of its counterpart. I feel another bout of nausea, but ignore it. My muscles hurt and I'm just a little dizzy. I'm alright. I can usually jump a measly story with no effort. Damn.

The person swiftly turns around, startled. If Aleonde, my old commander at the Turks saw me right now, he'd fire me.

It's Cloud.

He looks haunted, tired, but determined.

"Vincent…!" He exclaims. I assume it took him a moment to recognize me in the shadows and without my cloak. How young he is! And how foolish. A brave man, no doubt. He was true to his heart and he never gave up. Or maybe that was Zack? It doesn't matter. I followed him into fire and mako and the possibility of sharp teeth. I saved his life and he saved mine. I respect him, even if we had never become friends.

"I heard you left." I say. Remaining in the squat in which I landed, balanced on one foot. The walkway that runs right above the common area is scarcely lit right now. He shouldn't be able to see much more than my silhouette. I can see him perfectly. Maybe this is how I will remember him forever? His face an impossible mix of uncertainty and determination. People will call him a Hero, but I shall always see him as a boy, trying to figure out what it takes to be a man.

"I did." He says. What's on your mind, young warrior? Why are you in so much pain if it's all over?

Everyone around me is hurt. We are all unhappy. The festivities are over and now reality sinks in. Reality hurts. We lost, Cloud. We lost the moment we were put in the situation where he had nothing to lose. The moment we all realized that we're willing to die for the planet, we lost.

We lost because we won and now having nothing to _lose_ just means that we have nothing _left_.

"I _have_ to go." He explains, almost pleads. What, Cloud, did you think I'd judge you? It is only the pain you're causing her that agitates me. "You understand, right? I have to get myself straightened out. I have to know certain things- I need answers." You're doing this for you, I guess. What else can you do? Being with her was impossible ever since Aeris. If you _don't_ go with her you break her heart, if you _do_ go with her it'll be out of pity. She'll be the consolation prize and everybody will know it- even her. "We were talking about it earlier." He continues. "I'll start traveling and I'll find a job. She said she wanted to open an orphanage here in Midgar- or at least close."

An orphanage? That means a whole bunch of Marlenes running around? Holy help us. I'll be staying away from that place. I'll stay away from Midgar all together. But first I need to get the room to stop spinning when I move my head.

He peeks down and sees her sleeping in my cloak. Good thing he can't see if I blush or not. He looks at me with this worried frown.

"How is she?"

You know you hurt her.

How did I end up in the middle of this little drama? Wrong place at the wrong time. The story of my life.

"As can be expected." I answer. Nothing else seems fair. The truth would hurt Tifa, a blatant lie would not be just to him. He cringes.

"I'm sorry." He says. What are you apologizing for me for? You're not _really_ sorry. If you were really sorry you'd try and make it up to her, not sneak out while she's sleeping. He then looks pleading again. "Keep an eye on her?"

Me? Don't get me involved. I stay quiet. I'll make you no promises, Cloud. I will not attempt to fix the break you have caused, nor will I ease the guilt in you with an empty assurance. You were brave until now, so why are you running?

Why are _you_ running, Vincent?

He walks towards me and I stand up. He stops as soon as I straighten fully and glances at me up and down once, swallows nervously. Maybe it's our height difference, or maybe it's just my missing leg. He then looks me in the eye,

"I can't live with the regret of not doing anything. I don't want to live knowing I just watched her die. You know what it's like, right? To have done nothing?"

Don't you _dare_ mention that, Cloud. _Don't you dare_. Yes. I understand you. But- Don't say it like that. Don't say it like you don't want to end up like me. Don't say it like it was the same. Don't say it like I don't feel it- like I might have forgotten, like you might dare to judge me. I'm angry with you, Cloud. You'd better go.

He smiles simply and extends his hand. Oh? Which hand do you want? The one that's cracked and bandaged, or the one that'll shred your wrist? Good. Lower your hand.

He leaves.

* * *

.

Hi! Here's the new chapter, right on schedule. I know this chapter is pretty short (2 pages). I try to have the chapters at least 3 pages long. For compensation I might update on Tuesday with the next chapter, which is longer than average. If it doesn't show up on Tuesday, then Saturday as usual.

This chapter caused me no little amount of grief. I mean, next chapter takes us to the next day, and I'm not sure if this beat is necessary. I was half a mind to toss this chapter out the window and just go directly to the next day. Please let me know what you think. If I update early, please tell me if you think this chapter is superfluous. Sometimes I know you have to get rid of things you like, but I really like the line about having nothing to loose means having nothing left. I'm proud of that line. There. I said it.

As always, your comments are my air, so sweet to breath in.

Darknightdestiny: Congratulations on a baby boy! I am very happy for you and I'm sure that he'll have the best life in the world. What's his name, if I may ask? If his name is Vincent…

Tirnam'Bas: I like the parallel you drew with Tifa being Vincent's microwave… slowly warming his heart. I thought that was very well put!

Tolea: You want me to beta? I'll do it with honor. bow But I must warn you that I'm no good at grammar and spelling, as my chapters clearly betray.

Ataea and everyone else: Please let me know as we progress what you may want to see in the sequel. Anything at all, really! I'm not saying I'll necessarily use all the suggestions, but I'm sure you guys have tons of ideas! Anything you'd like to see in my style? I have a few ideas, mainly that the sequel will be more about Vincent's past and his telling of it. Nothing is set in stone, though. I don't know how much people would want to see my version of it – it's been done to death, after all. Please let me know!

Tiramisu: Yes, when Vincent says "Damnit, Vincent!" He's damning himself. It's Vincent we're talking about, he'll never damn anyone but himself.  
I always look forward to your reviews.

LilTigre: Thanks again for the help. Please continue to point out my grammar mistakes (Grammatical mistakes? See? I can't even do that. ). It's a great help and I need all the help I can get when it comes to English!

For you people who said that I make you look forward to weekends… Everytimes someone says it I just get choked with emotion, which is very rare for me… The knowledge that I'm affecting people that I've never met, people from all sorts of places and each with an infinite amount of stories in each life… It's a feeling I never really had before. Thank you!


	11. Nothing New Under the Sun

The next morning finds me on the deck, where I usually go when I want to pretend I don't care. I think it has gotten to be a little too much.

I admit it.

I care.

There- I said it. Happy?

I care about what happens to this rag-tag team of buffoons.

Damn it.

Tifa had left earlier than I woke up, which is surprising.

She had tried to fold my cloak; it ended up a square with things sticking out of it. Looked like a road-kill octopus. I had to smile. She left a note on it that read

'Vincent, I'll be back tonight- wait up for me, ok? Marlene can sleep in until whenever she wants. _Tifa_.' And she added a little stick-figure doodle of me on the bottom with a little heart coming out of my smiling head. She's an atrocious artist and should be banned from ever lifting a pencil again. Her hand writing is pleasant enough, though, and I like the little twirl she adds when she's capitalizing her V's.

It feels almost odd to have my cape on again. I've almost gotten used to going without it. Sometimes it feels like it's the only friend I have left. The only thing that's familiar and with me always. On the other hand it reminds me of closed spaces and fights and deaths. I keep wearing it anyway, more because people might start asking questions if I have the choice to wear my cape, but don't, than an actual need. I just don't feel like explaining myself.

I feel worse today, but I expected as much. I take my pain killers. What else can I do? I just need to wait until I'm better beforeI leave. I'll have to be careful with it. I don't want to hurt Marlene or Tifa. They've had enough grief for now. I'll have to handle it delicately, though I entirely expect to botch it.

.x.

In front of me is Midgar. It's ruined. I don't believe anyone would ever want to live there again. The proud Shinra tower has been stripped of its glory and reduced to a forlorn pillar of metal, reaching out towards the overcast sky like the pleading hand of the dying.

Thousands of people are dead underneath the rubble. I look at it and it cannot register. How could it? I cannot imagine that number of people. I knew none of them and there's nothing I can do to help them. There is no grief left in me. A new world order is coming. The entire world needs to adjust to what the future has in store. There are still Weapons about, and now Materia will become quite rare. Medical institutions will have to find an alternative power source for all those people on life support. They'll probably end up dieing.

So much death, so much change. I think I'm desensitized: I've seen too much death. I have to cope with too much change. I just don't care anymore about any of it. Does that make me heartless? Or Cold? I can't help it. I can't feel. I don't _mean_ to be cold. I want to believe I do have _something_ beating in my chest. Is it so wrong of me to feel nothing? I can't _make_ myself feel.

I've killed people, these deaths feel no different.

I _do_ feel rather useless, standing here on the railing while people are dying out there, right in front of me. Well, there's little I can do on one foot.

Or is it an excuse? If I had both my feet right now, would I have gone to help? Probably. Would I have cared for whomever I may have saved? Probably not.

Is the act of saving lives more important than the sentiment behind it? If you save someone and you feel nothing, does that negate the act? I guess not, because they're still alive, and they might be thankful- even if your heart is not touched.

No unlike killing: It doesn't matter if you don't feel anything towards the person you kill- they're still very dead for it.

Does caring change a man? It can- I've seen it firsthand when I fell in love with Her. My life rotated around her. I was made into a different being just by the knowledge of her grace. Just knowing that she's out there and that she knows me- just the thought she might be thinking about me- and I was transformed. Like a caterpillar into a butterfly; I felt my soul soar. I almost envy my old self for having felt all that once. I want to feel it again. But, Holy, did it hurt coming off of _that_ high.

Then, and now, my soul hungered for something. That hunger or thirst in my heart. I feel myself caring more and more about these idiots. Tifa and Cid and all of them. Even little Marlene. And when I care… It's almost like a drink of water or a slice of bread. It's _good_. It's satisfying. Like a man who's found an oasis in the desert.

But is it truly water? Is it not a phatamorgana? Last time I thought I found nourishment it ended up killing me. How can I tell if I'm drinking water or sand? The parched, desperate man cares not if he drinks reviving water or scorching sand. He just wants something to drink…

If he drinks the sand and dies happy, is he really worst off than the one who drank the water and died unhappy? I don't have the answer.

Aleonde used to say: "There's nothing you want better than that that is just out of your reach".

Is this feeling- are these people- my salvation or my doom? Will caring for them make me happy or destroy whatever strength I have left?

It's almost noon already. I've been out here musing for hours. I go inside and find Marlene playing in the common area. She smiles and greets me. I nod my acknowledgment. She offers me a doll to take and play with her.

I politely decline.

.x.

I take care of her for the rest of the day. By 'take care' I mean I make sure she doesn't die from infantile stupidity. Like licking a power outlet or jumping off the Highwind again.

Even now, throughout this entire day, my thoughts remain the same.

Do I stay here?

Where do I go if I leave?

What's the _right_ thing for me to do?

Maybe I should go to that cave again? Maybe She'll…

She'll what? Is the past really what I want to live for?

I have nothing to live for. That's why I could fight with all my might back then. If I had something to live for I wouldn't have come back when Cloud gave us the chance to leave.

I don't know what to do. My stomach clenches into a knot. Someone had stuck a fork in my gut and is twisting them like so much spaghetti. Anxiety, that's the word. It reminds me of how I used to feel before a mission. It would always be just like this. I think I even used to use that same spaghetti metaphor.

Marlene then draws my attention to the fact that the popcorn had long stopped popping in the microwave. There's no fire in this thing _anywhere_- I checked. Am I the only one who finds this disturbing? I put food in and it lights up and spins. Then the food is hot. That does not make any scientific sense.

She has burnt popcorn for lunch and is smart enough not to complain after I glare at her. I thought even _I_ couldn't mess up popcorn. I used to make it all the time- in a pot, like _normal_ people.

She plays games and I half-watch her while reading my book.

It's not unpleasant. I know she's here and she knows I'm here. We can, in a way, be together without really interacting. It's relaxing. My greatest concern in taking charge of her was that I might be expected to entertain her. Luckily she is well practiced in entertaining herself.

At one point she makes me hold one of her jigsaw puzzle pieces, which I promptly hide in the folds of my cape. I don't know why I do it. I just want to see what she'll do, I guess. I want to test her problem solving skills. I want to see if she has hope yet. Besides, it's funny.

When she asks me if I have it I shrug and continue my book. Only after she seems certain enough that she'd lost it do I produce it again to give it to her.

I wish I could smile like that; in that smile are all the hopes and all the future that Planet can offer. What happens to that? Was I ever like that? I think I was born old.

Was I ever so innocent and carefree? Did my smile hold all worries at bay?

I don't really remember. I don't _think_ I was.

She's a sun spot. Knowing me, I was an oil spill.

She's a lot less of a hassle than I initially feared. I could get used to this. Uncomplicated; she wants nothing more from me than my presence and something of protection. No ulterior motives, no secrets or plots. She is what you see, and what I see is a happy, lighthearted child. That's how children _should_ be. War makes people old. Something in their eyes. I can look at someone and tell if they've seen war and death. It's written on their soul and printed on their heart.

I keep hiding items in my cape several times that day. Each time she gives me something she knows I'll hide it. She watches my hands with intent until something random distracts her. Then I hide it and every time she's amazed like the first. She never catches me. It makes me want to smile.

* * *

Damn, another painful chapter. It's just going to get worse for me from here because we're at the brink of the climax. These parts make me really anxious, just like Vinnie before a mission. I feel this way because I really want to nail these chapters. It's important to me to get it _just right_ first go. I know they'll be parts I'll look back on and cringe, but I'm doing the very best I can _now_. That counts too, right?

Next chapter is too short, this one turned out too long. There's just no good way to split those without breaking the flow. Frustrating.  
Expect it on Saturday, as per usual!

Thanks for the comments about this chapter. I'm glad to see it helped bring the plot along and not hold it back. I was reluctant to keep it in because I felt it simply re-stated things and did not teach us anything new by the end. Also, emotionally I felt that we enter the chapter with the same emotional state in which we leave with nothing in the middle. But looking at it now and keeping all of your comments in mind, I can see I was probably too hard on myself.

SilverPurity: You're so nice to me! If we're not careful, we're going to have a big, fat LunarBlade.  
If there's anything you think you'd like to see in the sequel, just let me know. It's a mix of 'I have an idea but it might suck' and 'if I don't do this idea, I don't know what I'll do' sort of thing…

And what does everybody think about a re-cap of Vincent's life as the sequel? Has the subject been done to death? Maybe I'll write it in the same first-person style as this. I was thinking of having the sequel a first-person perspective from _Tifa's_ point of view. Because for her this is all new, while writing it from Vincent's point of view will give us the whole 'all-knowing narrator' thing going.

I had a semi-anonymous reviewer "Me" ask that I _don't_ make this a VinTifa. If said reviewer is still around- could you explain your objection? I'm curious.

LilTigre: Please keep those grammar tips coming! I learn something new every chapter, though I'm afraid I sometimes forget to attempt an implementation… ;

Indigo Angel: Yes, it can be really difficult to write from Vincent's POV. It can come down to the smallest things like if Vincent uses full sentences and how he starts them. I mean, everything in a way has to be autistic. It's all redirected inwards. Am I making sense? I also need to constantly drop some of his lines. In the chapter where the Vincent Approach is first introduced there was a dialogue between Tifa and him. Dropping that dialogue and introducing the 'approach' helped keep Vincent in character, in my opinion. Yeesh, I just rambled again, didn't I? ;

Darknightdestiny: You're so wise! stares at DnD with admiration all over. Your comments about the chapter give me courage to face the next few. I really need to feel confidant in the climax, and I'm working and re-working it in hopes that I do.  
Tell Johnny I said 'hi'.

P.S.  
The little ".x." things are just seperators because doesn't let me double-space things or just put "." like I tried to until now. Sorry.


	12. Never

Marlene is asleep. She had made me stay there until she did. Said it made her 'not scared'. How can my standing there make any difference? I guess it proves to her that I'm there. I guess the worst time in the company of a stealth killer is when you _don't_ know where he is. I doubt that's her reasoning, though. Maybe she's afraid of the dark. It's odd- I'd consider _myself_ one of those things that go 'bump' in the night. I used to sneak up on people and kill them in their sleep, not lull them into it.

Ignorance is bliss. She just doesn't want to be alone.

Don't we all?

After she had fallen asleep I pointed my finger at her. I knew all it would have theoretically taken is to squeeze my finger. Simple as that. Looking at her sleeping face I remembered _all_ the sleeping faces. I never really asked who I was sent to kill. It was none of my business. Just like in Avalanche. I never asked why all these bandits, soldiers or SOLDIERs had to die.

As a Turk I had often wondered at the unfinished books and projects on the tables, but was never brave enough to check them. I had known that tomorrow this person will not see the sun shine. Tomorrow all those projects will have remained forever unfinished, never another page turned in the books, not a line written in the diary…

"We're friends, right?" Marlene had looked at me with big worried eyes before she fell asleep. I said 'yes' because I was tired and it was late and wanted her to go to sleep.

"Will you ever leave?" She then asked. I said 'yes' because it was the truth and I didn't want a scene later. She seemed saddened by it, but then declared with a smile, "But you'll be back." It wasn't a question.

It was odd. It had never happened before. Even though all I had pointed at her slumbering form was a finger… even though putting my thumb down will not harm her in the slightest…

I couldn't do it.

I don't know if I lost my touch, or forgot what it had felt like. What did I used to chant to myself to pull that trigger? I remember I used to say something over and over. And in the end all it took was one moment of strength and the silencer would spit out one death.

I'm still not sure if I should be appalled that I lost it, or that I would even _pretend _to shoot her.

I'm back on the deck now, thinking.

Why did I try it? What was I trying to prove? That even _I_ can't kill kids these days? That I have a heart? When I was pointing at her… I saw the fingerless glove on my hand; I could _feel_ the weight of my P-99. Was it easy then? No, I don't think that it was any easier, but it was as necessary for me to do my job _then _as it was for me to do it recently. History marks the villains, and when I was a Turk I fought against those who stood against Shinra because they were 'wrong' and 'bad' and I was trying to help the world. As a member of Avalanche I killed because I was trying to save the world from the 'bad' and the 'wrong'.

Yes, I used to get paid for it. But we did get 'paid' even in Avalanche. Our Materia would grow, and we would learn to become better fighters.

It's all in your point of view.

Before every mission I would have this little idiosyncrasy/ritual I'd do: I'd lay out the clothes for the day after, and I would leave the book I was reading deliberately open on the bed with no bookmark. That way if I died and someone closed to the book, they will _never_ know of me. They will never know what page I was on and what page I will never read. It made me feel like I had to come back.

_Will_ I be back if I leave here? Will I ever return to the Highwind were I to leave it? It's a cold night, overcast with clouds promising rain. The air feels like something's about to break. The cold, still air chills me to the bone and feels awful against my skin. I feel like my internal combustion is burning with ice, not fire. Shivers run up my spine.

Yet I remain here because I _want_ to feel something. I want an answer. For what? For the hunger, and the pain and the burning in my chest. I want to know what will happen if I step away from Avalanche; the only thing I've known for the last year and a half, my only 'home'.

An explosion lights up sector 2. I think one of the reactors gave in.

_Damn_! Are they ok? What sector did they say they were working in? I don't know! I hope Tifa's alright. She has to be. Cid, Barrett, Red…

…Yuffie, Reeve & Cait…

They're strong. They're very strong. Stronger than me, stronger than I ever could be.

They're ok, they have to be. I know in my brain that even if a building fell on them they'd be all right. It takes a _lot_ to kill us these days.

…But since when does logic affect feeling?

What would happen if they got killed? Crushed by some falling debris massive enough? Then I would be…

I don't know why, but it stabs me through the heart.

I double over.

It's dark outside.

They might _never_ come back.

They'll never come back. Either killed by some force of nature, or they'll find out they don't want me as a companion… I will expect to see them again, but I never will. I will _never_ see them again.

I could look towards Midgar _forever_ and _never_ see them again.

It is like a slap to the very chambers of my fears, from which they are then released like the Titans from their ageless prison.

Alone.

When it's dark outside, it's so much easier to be alone. And I remember now… Remember with painful clarity…

Hojo, when he was having his sick fun: "_You can scream all you want, we're alone down here_."

Her, choosing Hojo: "_You'll_ _be alright by yourself? You're always so strong_."

My brother, before he left: "_You'll have to take care of yourself now, hear_?"

The Turks and Aleonde: "_You work well alone_."

My mother, when I left home for the Turks: "_Will you be alright on your own_?"

Why do they _think_ that!

I was never alright alone!

_Never_…! I never wanted to be alone. I never wanted to be lonely! I was always too much of a coward to tell them 'no!'. I was always just too stupid and proud to know how to make or keep friends. They were always bright enough to see me for what I was, always turned away…

Even my own blood, my family. I can barely register the meaning of the word.

Now everything is gone and I'm the last thing left in my entire generation.

I was _never_ alright.

Never.

I'm lost. I'm gone. I was put to a jail and not let go until everything I've ever known has past under the bridge of time. I had everything taken from me. My time, my youth, my love… Before now I had had my hate, my absolute desire to end Hojo's life, and in a way _She_ had accompanied me to the fulfillment of that dreadful oath. Now She's gone. Gone from my heart and from my life. There's nothing holding her memory to me now. There's nothing left for me to do for her. That was my only worry for so long… I'm the type of person to which a pleasant day just puts in contrast all that I've lost. I'm a wretched soul who cannot find happiness without blemish. I haven't had the time to realize the enormity of the loss until now. Hadn't had the courage to face it. Simple things like meeting someone you know when you walk down the street, going to your regular restaurant or finding someone who remembers you when you were "this small". I've tried to atone for my sins, and I even dared to think I might have succeeded, but that doesn't mean that my punishment should not be eternal.

Right?

Holy, it hurts.

Who would have thought that such a small question could cause me such pain? Such bittersweet agony tearing my heart from my chest. Ah, to feel so strongly- how long has it been?

For the first time since I woke up… for the first time I can remember since I was on the operation table…

…I'm crying.

On my knees, on the deck, at night.

* * *

Right…

So…

This is where it's going for now. Please let me know your reactions! It's very important to me to know how this chapter affected you and what you felt. The point of writing in first person is to make the reader feel what the character is feeling, right? Well, I want to know if you could identify with him, if you could feel for him.  
Please let me know. If this chapter has too little emotional impact, then I've failed.

I wanted to show Vincent as human as possible, because he is, and if he's not, there's no sympathy or empathy for him.

LilTigre: You want to draw a sketch? I'd love to see it! Feel free to draw whatever you want, just please show it to me!

Really the whole hiding things in his cloak got stuck in my head after watching Advent Children. When Marlene asks him if she can use his cell-phone he lifts his cloak to show her that he doesn't have one. It seems an oddly 'revealing' thing to do, you know?  
Originally I thought she was asking if he had _Cloud's_ phone, so when he lifts his cape I thought he might have hidden things in there before…

Myhi: Yes, I'm a perfectionist…! sigh I don't do it on purpose. But you're right! I should take it easier and just write for the fun of it! That's why I write! I'll do my best. Thanks for reminding me.

SilverPurity: That's an interesting idea for a sequel! I'll definitely consider it! I like it. I mean, Cloud's back, right? What's Tifa's feeling through all this?

Ninja Rikku: I reckon it'd be 6 or 7 more chapters yet! Remember that most of them are pretty short like this one. I wouldn't be too surprised if the story will hit chapter 20. So… You can look forward to a bit more story yet! I hope you'll enjoy.

Eternal thanks list grows ever larger! Makes me happy!  
ArcBus, Indigo Angel, Just Jill, Myhi (Did I already thank you? Well, I'm thanking you now. ), Tolea (I didn't thank you? I was certain I did, but I couldn't find it- well- here you go! ) & Ninja Rikku.  
Know that you've moved and affected me. You and all those who've taken the time to just drop a line. You give me courage.


	13. Losing Ground

All I see are the palms of my hands, pressing around my eyes, creating a dreadful darkness. I want the tears to stop. I don't know why I broke down like this. It's pathetic. Air just tares itself from my feverish lungs, forcing silent sobs. I can't stop it; every inhale just provokes more pain. My very soul is on fire!

It hurts. My chest- my heart. _It hurts_. I don't understand why. I haven't felt this in a long time. It's releasing, but excruciating. Make it stop! Please… It hurts. I fight it like the fiercest enemy. I suppress the tears. I want to get up. I want to stop shaking.

I'm alone.

I've been awake now for a year and half. In that time I've managed to learn the strengths and weaknesses of my new body. I've managed to avenge Her: I've struck my claw into Hojo's gut and twisted. I've helped kill demigods and brought the world back from the brink of destruction. I've met and befriended the last Ancient. I've exchanged words with Sephiroth himself. But the hunger… the loneliness… it's never gone. Never left my side.

I hear small footsteps approach me. Dammit! She's still awake? She asks me if I'm alright.  
No, you _nitwit_. I'm not. It's all _your_ fault…! You opened this floodgate just because you show me everything I'm not. You had to step on the one thing that I didn't want to admit!

Holy… It hurts. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to have this dagger in my bosom. I'll take it out with the power of conviction. My pain is shameful, my giving into it so suddenly; unpardonable. And did I just blame the six-years-old for my problems? Vincent… You're the biggest coward in the world.

Now's not the time for it. Tifa might be back, or someone might come in and see me in this miserable state.

Stop it, Vincent. _Stop it_.

How pathetic.

A part of me wants to just give in and cry- why I _should_ keep it all in? Why should I not cry? The only one here is Marlene. And if anyone else chanced upon this sad, sad scene? Who cares? I'm human, too, despite it all.

Marlene has enough scars for one her age. She does not need to see a grown man cry.

I am the most wretched thing in the world. I have no right to be sad. I have no right to cry. Every tear that manages to slip through my fingers tears at my soul and makes me feel more wretched- resulting in more tears.

_Make it stop_!

I feel Marlene's hand on my back, but I don't want to look at her. I don't need to be consoled by someone with ten percent of my lifespan.

"There, there." She pats my back, and I must resist the urge to grind my teeth or toss her over the railing.

I don't like crying in front of people. I like showing my feelings to no living thing. It's something my mother used to say; "Everybody has a hard time. Don't make it worse." The only reason you would show pain in front of someone is to get attention. Otherwise: keep it to yourself.

I don't know why I can't stop crying. I don't know why I must have a mental breakdown just now. Maybe it's a sudden overwhelming concern for Avalanche, maybe it's the fact that everything just hit me- my age, my physical pain, my loss, my loneliness. Maybe it's because I've been pretty high-strung since I woke up and only now do I feel like I can let it all go. Maybe it's because it's dark outside and it's not even my world out there. Whatever the reason, it hit me like a shot from Sister Ray. The dam of my emotion had cracked. I'm doing my best to contain it. I am.

"Why are you upset?" She asks.

I'm not 'upset', I'm an emotional wreck. There's a difference.

"Did someone hurt you?" She asks softly. She sounds funny. Like she's quoting Tifa. I don't answer. There's no point.

"Don't be sad." She says. She sounds awfully calm. I want to throttle her. Go away or I'll rip into Chaos and have you for a snack. I hate you, Marlene. I hate everyone and everything.

I hear my own chocked sobs like from a million miles away, and I point and laugh from outside my body. What a miserable figure I must strike! My hair everywhere, my heart on my sleeve. Midgar is in ruins and flames behind me and I dare cry for a world that no longer exists. I cry for the unseen ruins of something I used to call my life. There's no excuse for this. No real reason for me to cry. None. Crying did not bring Her back, and did not make Hojo relent. It will not fix everything and it will certainly not give me the strength I need to face _this_ world.

Vincent, stop it!

She surprises me, then. She removes her hand from my back to put little hands on mine. Gently, she pries my hands from my face. I'm too confounded to resist. Too damn emotionally tired.

You want to see my face? Fine. I'll erase all emotion from it. There.

How easy has it always been for me to do that! To hide my emotions has always been so much easier than finding ways to express them. If I show emotion people will use them against me. Laughing too much is a sign of stupidity, crying too much is a sign of weakness. I always had something to hide behind; anger, an easy grin, a blue suit, a coffin. Now a cape of simple red cloth and buckles. I always have to hide, don't I?

I'm sure I'm a mess. My eyes are actually red now, Marlene. The wind burns the chill of the tear-streaks into my cheeks. I think the airship is moving, though I know it is not. I'm just a little unstable.

She peers into my face, and I must really look like hell because her little brows scrunch together in the colossal effort of thinking. I look back at her large, lustrous eyes. How simple life is for you, Marlene. How innocent. How lovely must the world look in your ignorance of its true, dreadful face. How lovely to have people who are ignorant of mine.

"This is no good." She says. What isn't? What are you talking about? Do you have any idea what you're saying? Do you realize that I have nothing left? "Don't cry."

"I'm-" Not? I am. I can't lie about it; she's staring right into my stricken face. "I'm just…" What? "It's been a hard year." That's an excuse and a lame one at that. If I had the worse year in the history of Planet I still have no right to burden others. "You should g-go back to bed."

She gives me a sad look, as though she sympathizes. As though she has an inkling as to what I feel. She thinks again- that's twice in one day! and then…

She simply gives me a hug.

...Simple as that.

Wrapping little hands under my cape and she can't even encircle my back.

I'm suddenly _huge_ compared to her. She's so small! I'm old and big and so out of proportions. I settle slowly, not to startle her. Why is she doing this?

I don't push her off, my muscles don't tense. They're probably just too tired. I just don't want to be alone right now. I don't… I'm not…

The warmth from her body spreads into my chest. It's not bad. There's something… relieving about it. Something close to a lethargic state takes over my heart.

It almost feels like that time in the Turks I got shot. One of many times where my skin was torn by hate propelled led.

There was this intense fire-fight once: one of the worst of my experience. I was so anxious, shooting and dodging and protecting. When I got shot I felt so relieved! The bullet went clear through my chest, and it felt _good_. I knew where I stood. The battle was over for me- I knew the conclusion. I knew I lost. I didn't need to worry and run and shoot anymore. I was relived. All the fear had gone… And it didn't even hurt. It didn't even hurt when I felt myself falling. It was such a relief.

I sort of feel the same now.

My inexplicable sadness is somehow washed away, leaving a sort of empty reprieve that I know will not last, but while it does… I lean my head on hers. I won't even try to hug you Marlene, I'm too tired.

I lost, but… I'm not sure to whom. I wasn't really sure there was a battle, but I guess there was. One for my strength and my courage.

I lost.

I don't feel the need to cry anymore. I know how this ends. I lose. I'm used to it. At least the only person that'd seen me in my defeat was Marlene.

Now I feel drained, spent and above all- ill.

"Don't tell Tifa." I whisper. I meant to say it normally, but I'm just so _exhausted_. She nods gravely and then pulls back. She holds up her little fist. It takes me a moment to realize that she's holding up a pinky.

Pinky promise? Oh, _please_. But she looks so serious, and I need this secret kept. I have no choice.

"…Which hand?" I ask dejectedly. I don't think she'd like my claw's little finger. It is almost the size of her head.

"Don't care." She shrugs, "They're both your hands." Hmm? Yeah, I guess they are. "Whichever one you choose it's still you."

We make a pinky promise.

I feel details start disappearing, I feel my one leg really not enough to keep me steady, I feel myself slipping.

This is _bad_.

* * *

Hello, everyone! I'm glad to be back, though I'm sure Vincent wishes I leave him alone. Things are kinda gonna go downhill for Vince in the next little while, but don't worry- I never end a story on a bad note. I feel that life sucks and that it always ends bad- so at least stories should end good, right?  
As always, I nervously await your reactions to this chapter.

This chapter was almost delayed indefinitely because I was thinking of deleting the entire ending I was working on and making a new one. However, I decided that there were reasons I structured the story like this and I have so much written already that I should keep my other ideas for the sequel. I felt things were going too bad for poor Vincent, but I also feel that in order for his to rebuild _everything_ he must first lose _everything_. So; things are going to get even worse before they get any better. Insert evil laughter here> Let me know your opinion?

For all those of you who kindly shared Vincent's feeling; a lot of this fic is written from personal experience and emotions. I hope to invoke more real feelings from my readers if I can tap into the feelings I had or still have, sometimes.

Welcome ChibiMatchMaker and Bloody Angel X! Thanks for the reviews!

LilTigre: Thanks for your kind words. You made my day when I read your review! I await your drawing with baited breath.

Oh, by the way; Vincent says 'Holy' as homage to _Sether: Hidden, Unseen_, in which Aeris and the Holy materia are now religion. So instead of saying 'god' they say 'holy'. I just thought it fitting. ;

Scarlet Dewdrops: Yeah, the whole 'actions' thing has me in a bit of a pickle. On one hand I want to describe what Vincent is doing, but on the other… People don't really think about what they're doing unless they're doing it deliberately, right? So it's hard for me to write about what he's doing believably. I can't have Vincent say "I look perplexed" unless he's deliberately making a face, you know? There were many _many_ instances in the story where I purposefully deleted the parts about his actions. There are stilla few that are in that bug me. It's a tricky balance I'm still trying to work out. What do you think I should do? Suggestions?

As always, you guys are the fuel that fuels my passion for writing. Positive and constructive criticisms are the food with which I grow! Please keep the reviews coming! The last few chapters I've been working on are really tough… ; I'll do my best!

Darknightdestiny: There's a problem with you reviewing? Noooooo! I always look forward to your reviews. But please do continue reading, and thanks for letting me know! I was afraid you just hated the last chapter or two… ; I'm glad that's not the case. Say 'hi' to Johnny from me!


	14. Madness

I don't remember going to my room but I'm here now.

Children, when you grow up remember the story of Vincent Valentine; killer, betrayer and loser. Whatever you do, children, do not become hitmen, fall in love with someone else's wife and then lower your guard in front of said husband.

Just say 'no' to adultery.

I'm dizzy, I feel sick. I can't see, I can't hear. My chest hurts again, but I'm too weak to get up from the floor. How did I end up on the floor? It doesn't matter.

I smell blood. My blood. It smells different than other peoples'. It smells rotten. It mixes with the smell of disinfectants.

It's in my head. I'm not there. I'm not on the operations table!

I'm not…

Holy…

The smell brings visions. I close my eyes to escape them, but I'm not seeing them with my eyes, now am I?

Scalpels and knives and pieces of flesh and small tubes that connect me to anguish.

Needles, used and clean.

The sound of flesh opening beneath a blade.

The sound of my heartbeats deafening and thundering.

The sound of my own voice, choking on a scream, stifling a sob.

No escaping it- No matter what I do it's there- _He's_ there- He'll keep on coming until I'm dead or he's done and then I'll wish I were dead.

The knowledge I failed to protect beautiful Lucrecia and that I'll never see her again- He won and I lost. I'm alone. He implants pain in my limbs, monsters in my head and hatred so deep in my heart only his demise would grant me reprieve.

Am I… Here?

I'm alone.

Deserted by everyone I've ever known, left to die in the hands of a madman who will leave me with not a shred of my humanity. He reduces me to an animal, naked and whimpering before my captor. If I could I'd have killed myself by now. But I can't… And I know that when he's done, Jenova will not let me die…

I get these dreams, sometimes… I dream I'm not on the table. I dream about a girl and a coffin and something about saving the world. The dream wasn't _that_ bad. I wasn't here, and I wasn't in this pain. No one was trying to kill me.

He's trying to kill me as much as he can without actually making me dead. How I wish he'd succeed in ending me!

It was a good dream, compared to here. I was away from all this, broken in a foreign world. But I was over the guilt, the pain, the anguish, the terror, the fear… No… Never over the fear… I'm not afraid of solitude… I'm afraid of…

_Loneliness_.

That all consuming hunger, that desperate need…

In my dream I had new friends. Good ones like the ones in the Turks. They were good people… A blond old pilot and a brunette whose perfect beauty could only be a figment of my imagination… No such angel exists, no such smile. Those dreams are just there to torment me. I miss that dream. I had a chance there, if nothing else.

It's so dark here. It's so alone, I'm so alone…

Somehow saving the world made it all ok. I don't remember how…

I'm all alone here, in the basement of the mansion.

_I'm all alone forever. No one will ever come. No one knows I'm here. No one cares about a Turk. There'll be no rescue. I'm so scared- I'm so scared- Please… Please help me… I'm alone…_

_I'm alone…_

_I'm so scared…_

…

I'm alone

…

**Black**.

My heartbeats are pounding through my ears.

Make it stop.

Let me just die so that I don't hear them anymore. Let me die so that this headache can go away.

Wait, if those are my heartbeats… Why are they so irregular?

I can't see. My eyes are closed, right? Otherwise I've gone blind. What's going on? Where am I? The basement? The table?

No.

The… The Highwind. I hear it hum. I'm dreaming. Or is this the reality and the other world a dream?

Am I a man who dreams he's a butterfly, or a butterfly who dreams he's a man? I heard that saying once. At the moment I'm not sure I'm even a man to begin with. My thoughts flutter like the proverbial butterfly, and my heart feels like it's on fire.

I hear my name. It's my name, right? …_Vincent_… _Vincent_… I had other names but that's the one I have now, right?

_He_ used to talk to me while He did his dreadful work. He used to say things like;

"Can you hear her, Vincent?"

"What does it feel like, Vincent?"

"You're a _monster_, Vincent."

"Scream some more, Vincent. It's amusing."

"Does this hurt, Vincent?"

"Vincent! _Vincent_! Are you _alright, _man!" -Wait, no, he never said that.- "_Vincent_!"

I hear wood creak, break. I hear footsteps. Get up, Vincent, get up! I can barely move. I don't understand why…! What's going on? I don't want to get chained up again… Not to that table. Not again. I swing and thrash to try to keep Him away. I don't want the pain anymore! I want that dream with the beautiful girl and the gruff man. I want the dream with the little kid who had eyes that chased away nightmares… I want to dream that again, I _liked_ that world. It was good to me, even if I was too stupid all the time to see it.

…

_Please_.

…

Hands on my back, cold hands. Different cold, though. A gentle cold compared to my skin. I hear that voice again.

…_Cid_.

His name is Cid. The other voice is… Tifa's.

I'm not _there_. It was a dream. A dream. Thank goodness. An explosion of relief washes over my body and I slump back to the ground. I don't care about anything for now, just not being _there_.

Without the guilt burning my chest, without the tubes and needles and terror.

Did you see, Lucrecia? Did you care that I've avenged what was done to you? I know I couldn't stop it. I know. But it'll never happen again. I gave your son peace and a future to all kids out there. Did you see?

Did you care?

No, I guess you didn't. Otherwise you would have been there the second time we came to the cave.

I'm out of your life, and you're out of mine. It's a good feeling to realize this, you know? It hurts, but it's also a releasing feeling; like it's behind me somehow. The two people whose names elude me continue talking franticly. I wonder what's wrong? They mention the word 'doctor' which startles me. I don't remember why.

I think I'm being lifted me up. They put me somewhere soft. It's so much more comfortable than wherever I was until now…

* * *

Madness! (re-posted to get rid of a few pesky spelling mistakes…)

First and foremost: LilTigre gave me fanart! It's so beautiful I'm going to re-work so I can put it up there, if it's ok with her! So beautiful…

Now about the story:  
Could you believe this chapter originally came right after the confrontation with Cloud? That's where it was in the beginning. Then everything changed and I figured I had to have a bit more Vincent and Marlene moments and it was pushed all the way here. That's why Vincent's mentioning the 'Children, don't grow up like me'. It's a reference to the way Cloud made him feel- like he didn't want to end up like Vincent.

Considering the comments I'll get for this cautiously-posted chapter I'll post the next one on Tuesday- mostly because this chapter ends in a sucky place. ; Let me know what you feel about this.

Holy, it's so hard to write mental breakdowns in first person! Was the madness coherent? Was there order in the chaos? In other words: Did I sort of manage to pull it off? Please let me know what sort of visuals or feelings you got from this chapter.

Next chapter things are going to go 'boom!' as Vincent believes _everything_ is lost. After that things are going to get better and then probably end. I have a few ideas for the sequel. Let's see if I can even pull it off!

Sometimes it's weird… Sometimes I feel like I'm 'in tune' with the story, and then I write with relative ease and I sort of like what comes out. Sometimes I feel like I'm just not in the right _frequency_ with the story, and then I feel like it's super hard to write anything. Even if it's not writer's block, it's still as though my style isn't fixed yet, and wants to change with the weather. Blah.

Have you noticed that when Vincent's coherent he will not mention Lucrecia's name, and while delusional he will not mention Hojo's. I just thought it would help separate the 'present' Vincent and the 'past' Vincent. He will not mention what he fears most in either world. I tried doing that consciously.

Tiramisu, LilTigre, SilverPurity and Darknightdestiny: Thank you time and time again for the great reviews. I look forward to them every week.  
I thoroughly enjoy this process- this wheel, if you will: I write a chapter, and then you guys give me another facet of it; a part, an idea or a concept that I did not see in my own writing or its implications. Then I think about it for a while and it adds just that much more next time I write…  
I love it. Thanks.


	15. Catharsis Part 1

I'm awake.

Again.

Holy, my head hurts. Can I _not_ wake up, please?

No? Oh, well.

_Ow_.

At least I can think now. Last… night? I don't know how long I was out- Last night was pretty hectic. My mind feels spread thin, like too little butter on so much toast.

I start hearing voices in the room. Maybe if I pretend that I'm asleep enough it'll become reality. I'm drugged again, which is probably for the best. There are marbles where my brain should be. I feel like I've been flogged. My eyelids are sealed with the strongest glue, and my heart beats with heavy, weary thumps.

The voices belong to Cid, Tifa and another person I don't recognize. My battered mind takes a moment to transform fleeting syllables into words.

"--is he?" Tifa asks. She sounds concerned. I wonder what's wrong? Is she ok? There was the explosion back in Midgar… The unknown voice says,

"I think he's been dragging this for a couple of days." Is he talking about me? "This is a pretty bad fever, but we caught it in time." I don't think Tifa and Cid would call a doctor. Not after knowing how much I despise them. This is probably just a knowledgeable person. He must be. They _wouldn't_. Besides, I'm _fine_.

"He'll be fine." See?

I'm glad they're alright. I… I guess I was worried about them.

"…I think he is also dehydrated… and… suffering from PTSD"

I hear Tifa gasp. Why? What's PTSD? Is it contagious?

She was worried about me?

I'm sorry.

Cid grunts. Oh, if you are a physician, _beware_. Stop saying things. Stop talking. Stop reminding me of where I just escaped from. Don't talk about these things. Don't talk about me, about how weak I was. Don't ruin what I have here by shining light on the shadows behind me.

"Alterations were made to his body… _Forcefully_, if you know what I mean… I'm not sure he's… entirely human anymore."

This man is a physician, _isn't he_? Holy, just let me die. No, just let me have the strength to kill him. I like this place. Don't take it away from me.

Please.

"Were you aware of this? Did this happen recently?"

"No!" Tifa exclaims on both questions. She sounds vastly distraught. Great, you idiot- like she didn't have enough worries already!

"I think he's up." Cid says. My grimace probably alerted him. I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to see what they will look at me with.

I force my eyes open anyway. There's no use.

I don't want to see fear or pity in their eyes.

Worse case scenario I leave here tonight. I can make myself disappear. They'll never find me. I will run away to the farthest ends of the Planet- I'll build a house in the snow and find a living fishing and clubbing baby seals to ease my fury.

Tifa has worry etched unto her charming features. Cid is biting down on an unlit cigarette. The third person is dressed like a doctor. _I hate him_.

I don't care how chubby he is, I will always see that gaunt, speckled face when I see a lab coat. Holy, get him away from me!

"Get out." I tell him. Maybe 'tell' isn't the right word; it turned out more like a growl.

"Sir, you shouldn't-"

"_Get out_!" I bark at him, half raising from the bed.

'Never gets mad', Tifa? Allow me a display of wrath. My life is crumbling around me. Can I be thrown any lower?

The physician exchanges looks with Tifa and Cid. Don't look at them- just leave! Leave before you get any ideas. Tifa nods once and he closes the door behind him. I sit up fully.

No, I don't care that you're hurt, body, I really don't.

I'm so tired of everything. Tired of being tossed around like my opinion doesn't matter.

I'm tired, tired, _tired_ of people playing with my life, telling me where to go and what to be.

Sick.

Of.

It.

Let me, for once in my life, take control. It will start now. I will make it as clear as possible, and then I will probably leave.

The doctor will be back. I need to get a head start.

I glare at both of them without actually seeing them; I'm too angry.

First I stare at one and then at the other. They know how much I _hate_ doctors. They're fully aware of it. I've made it _quite_ clear. I don't have this body out of my own _free will_. I'm sure even the stupidest of Avalanche could imagine how I got it. Their wildest, darkest imagination cannot _compare_ to what it was like. Hojo did not only rip humanity from me, but also my dignity. He has ripped the very possibility of friendship from me, and I'm helpless before his powers.

I feel the events of the last while running through the feebly reconstructing corridors of my self-esteem and knocking down the walls like an unruly child. I broke down. I cried. I lost my dignity, my strength, my time. I can still feel my defeat in my eyes- that sticky, swollen feeling you get when you cry, the bad taste in my mouth. They probably know.

They can see. It's all their fault. If they had just left me in the coffin, if they did not make me want to become something more than I am… I would not be feeling like _this_!

The Vincent approach glare works on Tifa, as I see her almost visibly shrink before my fury, but it never works on Cid.

"What's _your_ problem?" He asks defensively. Tifa's just staring at me. She's scared; I don't blame her. I'm mad at you, Tifa and Cid. I don't know why you would betray me. I really don't. I thought…

I want to scream at the top of my lungs, but I don't, of course.

I imagine I'm hurting myself sitting up. I can feel every cell in my body protesting, but I'm done being weak in front of them. Look where it got me- deceived twice over. I feel my lungs protest as I breathe. I can't tell if it's pure anger doing this, or a symptom of this affliction.

What's _my_ problem? I guess I could spell it out for them, but I know I'm too furious to say what I mean. I'm too livid not to say things I might regret.

"Oh, no you don't." Cid scowls back at me- Like I might have offended him. "You're not retreating into your #&$#ing shell after scaring that poor guy half to death. You're talking if I have to _wring_ it out of you"

Tifa tries to protest, but Cid stops her.

"We woke that guy up at 5am and rushed him here, Tifa! He was doing us a _favor_! He had no right to yell at him like that"

"No right!" I find myself retorting. I'm sorry, but I can't just sit here and take it! I'm sick of people telling me what I should do, where I should go, what I should _feel_. My voice is cracking. Everything hurts.

"_No right_? You had _no_ right calling him here." I'm practically talking through clenched teeth. A part of me wants to shut up, but my anger is too much. I'm afraid I'll say too much.

Why do people always have to leave? Why am I always the one left behind, betrayed?

_Why_?

…_Mother_…  
…_Brother_…  
…_Aleonde_…  
…_Lucrecia_…

But what do I have to lose at this point?

"It does not matter how bad my condition was. I do not care if I was _dying_. People of that profession _sicken_ me with their hypocrisy. They'll heal you one day and kill you the next!"

I'm shaking and I'm scared. So scared of that table, and those needles and those smells. You have no idea…Hide behind your anger, Vincent, that's what you always do. Cid says,

"Those are strong words coming from a #&$#ing Turk."

Insufferable man! You're just adding insult to injury. What do my years as a Turk have to do with anything? He continues,

"We ain't exactly good friends with the Turks, you know? They tried to kill us more than once! From what I hear they kidnapped the flower girl and delivered _her_ to Hojo! They brought down the Sector Seven plate- killed hundreds- you think we _like_ the Turks? Do we want anything to do with them? _No_! But you don't see us judging _you_ 'cause of what _they_ did!"

I'm stumped for a retort there, Cid. You're right; and I hate you for it. But I'm still angry. It's not the same. It's not. I did not take enjoyment from their deaths; I did not torture them just to see them squirm. I did not do it for my own direct gain. It's not the same.

But you don't understand-

"_What_?" Cid bellows with obvious frustration, "Don't just think it- _say_ it, you lousy _recluse_!"

"You don't understand!" I almost yell, and cringe because I need to explain myself now. I lost! I gave in to tears and to the pain! I'm not strong like Tifa- I'm a disappointment! It is my fault I am put in these situations. It is my weakness that made it possible then or now. I was not even able to go and check on them in Midgar. What if something had happened to them? I would be…_devastated_.

I _want_ to be with you, guys. I don't want to be left alone.

If Tifa finds out she'll turn away because I'm not as strong as she wanted me to be. I've got nothing… The doctor will come back with others of his type and they'll make my nightmare a reality. They shall bring me to hell on earth and never let go until my soul has departed, and then hell itself will seem like a welcomed reprieve.

"You don't _understand_."

There's a moment of silence, then Cid growls,

"Then _tell_ us, you idiot. We can't read your &ing mind, ya know."

I cover my face with my good hand to try and stop the shaking in my body, to calm my nerves. I don't want to show them that I'm shaking, or that I'm terrified. I don't want them to see the coward, "They'll tear me limb from limb to find out what he did." I manage to control my voice a little better for this next part. "I'm _not_ strong enough to fight it again. I'm _not_." Take in a deep breath, Vincent, don't let your voice shake so much. "They'll take away my freedom and what's left of my humanity. They'll dissect me like I was nothing more than a _monster_…" Inhale slowly, don't hiccup. "Never- I _never_ want that again." There. I said it. Turn away if you want. You can look down at me if you want.

I've lost everything, now I've lost my home, too.

Home? Did I just call it home? I guess it was. '_You only know something's worth when you lose it_' as Aleonde used to say. I enjoyed staying on the Highwind. I enjoyed spending time with Tifa. I can even tolerate Cid these days.

I'm relieved to be away from the dream- this world had the potential to be good to me. It really did! I blew it. I _wanted_ to dare dream that I'll be able to rebuild, I wanted to believe that I can keep Tifa and Cid from finding out who I really am and what I've been through.

I'm sort of glad I said it. I'm glad I don't have it over my head anymore. I don't need to worry about it anymore. Like the bullet through the chest: whatever happens now, at least they know the truth.

A part of my brains is still crying, begging that whatever happens, they will not turn away. They will not leave me

"We…" Tifa starts. I'm afraid of what she might say. "But we'll protect you"

_They'll… protect… **me**_?

I lower my hand and slowly turn to stare at her.

* * *

Re-uploaded with (hopefully) fixed formatting and less italics. Yay!

Ok, guys- you got 4 pages today! I hope you are pleased with the result. Part one of Catharsis is what you get.

Are we getting a sort of released feeling? I want Vincent to be sort of 'let off steam'. Letting go of fears or facing them. They say that when it rains it pours, right? Poor Vince.

The words "We'll protect you" should show in Vincent something he has never considered- that he can rely on other people. He never really has until now.

Aleonde, by the by, was (in my world) his old leader in the Turks. Their relationship was a peculiar one. Vincent viewed him as a sort of father figure, and Aleonde enjoyed teasing Vincent and was secretly very proud of Vincent's intelligence and sharp wit. He was the first person to really give Vincent a chance and try and help him. Whether he died or not I leave to the sequel, since I was thinking of talking about Vincent's past in a different way than popularly portrayed.

My question for you in this chapter is: Are the _italics_ working? Should I keep making things _slanted_? Are we getting different intonations from it? Different emphasis? Would the story be any different without them? Please let me know what you think.

SilverPurity and Myhi mentioned that the continuity is a little off here. Yeah, I guess it can come off like that.  
A tough thing I have yet to find my way around is that when Vincent's out of it, I can't write what happens! It was hard enough to squeeze in the part where he's lifted onto the bed and keeping it believable and… well… sufficiently _crazy_. So I wasn't sure how to get a dazed walk to his room and all that in. I mean, at the end of the last chapter he's already woozy and disoriented.  
Any ideas on how to pull that off? Please let me know so I might make things flow nicer next time I have him go mad in first person. Heheheh…  
Don't worry- he's done being kooky in this story. :)

That it for now from yours truly. Please keep the comments coming- I'm learning so much every time! _Loose_ and _lose_- English is so mind-boggling sometimes!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and look forward to Catharsis, Part 2 on Saturday!

_LunarBlade._


	16. Catharsis Part 2

Her eyes are large and beautiful and so honest. There's steel behind the roses in those eyes, though. I think she means it.

They'll protect… me?

What is she saying? They can't- they won't.

"I don't _want_, nor _need_ your protection." I measure each word. I want you people to _understand_ me. I'm not that feeble; I'm not to be pitied. Don't look down at me. I don't want this. I want you to think I'm so cold that I'm impenetrable. I want the conversation to end. I want to go away.

Don't look down at me.

"Oh, for #&$#'s sake!"

_…!_

Next thing I know I'm slammed against the headboard.

Cid has me by the collar and very nearly tossed me into the headboard. If I look half as surprised as I feel, my eyes are practically popping out. My ribs are protesting at the rough treatment, but I'm too stunned to speak. Has he gone _mad_?

"Cid!" Tifa yelps. He ignores her, his fury very much only on me.

"Listen, you stupid sunova- I don't give a rat's ass what you _think_ you want or don't want." He's talking an inch from my face, and all I can do is stare at him. His bright eyes somehow managing to hold mine captive.

It takes a lot for me to be intimidated by another person, but he's pulling it off flawlessly. I hope he doesn't hit me- He looks seriously infuriated.

"We were worried _sick_ about your anorectic ass! You were half dead, for Holy's sake! You were running a fever that'll make Flare look like nothin', and I _know_ you haven't eaten anything!" Oops. "You were running a fever of 111, ok? Do you think I gave a flying #&$#ing _shit_ about what you wanted, you selfish _bastard_!"

I blink at him, shame slowly creeping into my heart, fighting off anger. Don't go, anger! Don't leave me alone with humiliation. Cid tightens his grip on the collar of my shirt- his shirt.

"If you want to die that's your #&$#ing prerogative-" I wasn't aware he even _knew_ that word. "-Just don't go makin' friends before hand! We'll care about your #&$#ing coat-hanger-for-bones-ass even if you don't!" He's getting pretty creative with those insults. I'm only a little offended, but I _am_ impressed. At least the part of me that isn't worried about getting clobbered is.

Tifa's standing right behind him; I can barely make her out from behind Cid's ear. One of her hands is towards his shoulder, as though ready to stop him if he went too far. I believe she agrees with everything he said or she would have stopped him by now. Cid draws in a breath.  
Oh, he's not finished? I find myself cringing.

"I also don't care what the hell was done to you- No, I do, but- We killed Hojo! There's nothin' we can #&$#ing do now. All you gotta do is cry me a river, build a bridge and get _over_ it! Knowing what he did to you just makes me wish you would have #&$#ing told us earlier! That way we'd have stabbed him a few more times for shits and giggles!" This next part he practically screams in my face, "_'Cause we're friends, you tragedy lovin', noodle-brained, ass-faced, self-centered asshole_!_ And that's what **friends** do_!" He lets go of me then. I slide down.

Ow.

I'm… I'm humbled. Startled and a little affronted, but humbled.

…_Noodle brain_…?

I want to retort. I want to say something awfully clever that'll let me save face for my prior outburst. But I find nothing to say, and my mouth opens and closes stupidly.

Oddly enough, I feel as though a great burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I don't dwell on it- I'm sure it'll pass and I'll feel very bad very soon.

"Why didn't you say anything if you weren't feeling well?" She asks, real concern in her voice and expression. Isn't she afraid I'll scorn her open emotions? I guess she doesn't. I guess even if I do she won't change. I guess that's real courage. Something I could never do- be true to my emotions no matter other people's reactions. Always went with the easy path of apathy.

"I did not think it was that bad."

I deliberately move my attention to the post of the bed. I'm still slumped half on the headboard; I've no energy to move much anymore. Anger's wake had left me drained and pain robbed me of my fervor.

"No shit, Sherlock." Cid says. I dare a glare at him, but I must continue painfully,

"Besides, why _should_ I have mentioned it?" I'm not so spoiled that I would need to whine about every ailment that I feel.

"Because we're your friends!" Tifa exclaims, falling to her knees by the bed, and grabbing my hand. I assume she does it out of impulse, because she holds my hand _so_ tightly.

I refuse to move my attention from the bedpost. She's so compassionate…

"Look at us, you asshole." Cid demands.

I guess he was worried too. I guess I was being an ass. I guess we have become friends even through everything, even though I did anything in my power not to get hurt again.

I feel so happy that they're still here…! A small part in the back of my brain is yelling that this is really good, and that I am happy.

Right now having them here… doesn't hurt. It feels warm. It feels pleasant. They're not causing me grief _right now_ via our friendship… and maybe… that's what it's all about? Maybe they were there for me all along but I was too self-involved to see it?

I look at them: first at Cid, then cautiously at Tifa. Her eyes are like a mirror of liquid. Well, I had all this mess coming and, as usual, deserve all that I bring upon myself.

Holy, my heart is a maelstrom of emotions, swirling and creating whirlwinds as they crash and fight each other. Humiliation, relief, pain, joy, anger, hope, fear…

Let hope win over fear,

Let joy chase the humiliation,

Let relief wash away pain…

_Please_.

_Let me dream_.

Let me dream and never wake up from a world where I have something, where I feel like I _belong_.

_Please_.

She's still holding my hand, grasping at my fingers and the bandages. I don't pull away. My muscles don't tense.

For the first time in a very long time. I want to try. I _want_ to dare!  
Her eyes are searching my face for something. I can see my reflection in them. I look ill. With all that I'm feeling… even _I_ can't find emotion on that face. Can they? I am a cold bastard, aren't I? I'm afraid that if I try making an expression, I'll make the wrong one. Is that even possible?

"I'm sorry, Tifa." I murmur. I meant to say it with conviction, but that's how it turned out. I want to bury myself under the earth and not come out until the Lifestream itself spits me out.

"What are you apologizing for now?" She's half-chuckling and a single tear runs down her face. I follow it with my eyes. It seems to say "_your fault_" on it. "You're _never_ a burden, Vincent. You're our _friend_. We _care_ about you and we were worried about you." It still hurts to hear it, though.

"Even if you don't give a flying #&$# about anything." Cid chimes in.

"It's not like that." I mutter, again with less force than I mean. "I'm just not… I just don't know how…" It's not like me to stutter like this. "Just not used to being…"

"Human?" Cid raises an eyebrow.

I thought only I could do that thing with the eyebrow. Copycat.  
I look away. What can I say to that? I don't know how to… 'interact'. Stupid Cid.

Yes, "I've lost." I've lost the battle against my pain. I've lost the battle against these two.

Tifa tilts her head just so, still peering into my face. I like the way you look at me. I _love_ it. Don't know why.

"What did you lose?" She asks.

"Everything." Say more! Say what you mean, Vincent! I want to tell you, Tifa, but I don't. I don't know how to line up the words and they just stop right behind my tongue. I can't say them. I'm too scared.

"But isn't it a little like Midgar? Midgar's lost. It's in ruins now- but there are people there- they're trying to help; they're lifting stuff from the wreckage. Just because Midgar lost once, does that mean it's gone for good? It's barren now, but with work- with support from people who _care_- won't it be alive and sturdy again?"

When did she become so wise?

She's right. I hope she's right. I hope there's something in me to revive. I _want_ someone to care enough to want to help me. I _want_ to believe it.

I think I need help.

I think I need to get myself sorted out. This… Isn't… 'normal', is it? Maybe I have whatever that Doctor said? PTSD?

Now I remember… _Post Traumatic Stress Disorder_. We used to call it 'Shell Shock'.

As I ponder this I discover an additional spike beside my foot. I wiggle my ankle. It's there…! My boot… I can walk again.

I wonder vaguely if it's symbolic, if I'm whole now, but I know it's not as simple. My heart will take a lot more mending than this to make me whole.

I guess Cid had repaired it while I was out. Nice of him. I guess they cared for me while my head was too far up my own ass to notice. Nice of them.

Look at my hands. _Look_ at them. One of metal and one of flesh. Half man, half something else. A hitman who reads poetry, a _hopeless romantic_ stuck in a realist's mind. A fatalist with hope for life.

'_They're both yours'_ Marlene had said. Whichever one I use it's still me, isn't it? If I kill with my flesh hand or heal with my claw, it's still _me_ doing it. I've never looked at it that way.

So… If it's all me… What am I? Half past, half present? Can I be whole again? Can I- _do I_ have the right to try and grasp a portion of the world as my own? Does the tin-man get a heart in the end? Even he had to struggle to find it. My brother used to say '_If it didn't hurt, you didn't learn_'.

There's light coming into my room from the window. I think it's not long after dawn.

There's something I want to try.

I gesture for my cape- draped over a chair that had been brought into my room. I try not to think of the doctor. I'm safe. I have to believe it, because I can't believe they are bad people who just promise things. I have to believe it. I _want_ to.

I'm safe.

I feel myself falling asleep again. Good, I'm still not used to feeling so much or so strongly. I'd rather sleep on it than face it.

A perplexed Tifa brings me my cape and I clumsily fish through it until I find what I am looking for. As they stare with astonishment all over their faces, I break a piece of chocolate from the bar and toss it into my mouth.

It melts immediately.

_Holy_.

I _love_ chocolate. It's just as good as I remember it and more. It's sweet and creamy and makes me want to smile. I give Tifa the rest. They can have it; I got what I was looking for…

Caring… is also as sweet? Is it as great as I remember it?

The only way to know is to try.

I feel the last of my wits leave me, but the sweet taste, and the knowledge that my friends are here accompanies me into slumber.

* * *

What do you think? 

Another 4 pages and another chapter towards the ending. As things are going now this is the last but one chapter! Seems like next chapter is going to be the last one! Oh no's! I was considering adding an Epilogue, but I think it will bereally unnecessary. After next chapter let me know. It's probably going to be next Saturday, as I want extra time to make sure I get it right. Hopefully I will be able to finish this story well!

Well, about PTSD… Let's just say I've had the chance to see it first hand.

I wanted the name of the story to be something that had 'steps' in the name, because each chapter is supposed to be like a step towards change. Each chapter is supposed to be one step. I dropped that idea and now I'm wondering if I did right. It also didn't help that I could not come up with a good name for the life of me. The story went through, like, 3 different names before I just randomly chose 'Dark Outside' 'cause of Marlene.

Here is a link to LilTigre's deviantArt so you can see the awesome art she drew for me! Thanks LilTigre!  
Http/ liltigre . deviantart . com

Thanks for the comments about Italics. I've started using them in a more selective manner. If I hadn't already- I'll re-update the last chapter with fixed formatting and less italics when lets me upload .doc files! Grrr…

Oh, one more thing; I was thinking if the story gets to 300 reviews I'll do something _special_ for you reviewers, but I don't know what. I was thinking I'll take on a writing dare or something, but I don't know what will make people happy.  
I want to make the you guys happy because you took the time to help me and make me happy, you know? Please let me know what will be a good idea if I get 300 reviews?

See you next Saturday with what could be the last chapter of **Dark Outside**!

"_Bide your time and hold out hope_",  
LunarBlade.


	17. Miles to go before I sleep

Change is hard. I want to change though, so I think this might be the first step. I want to learn.

I'm going to find comfort. I have to. I don't know when I'll die. I don't know if I'm even going to. There's going to be whole lot of Jenova to go through before I can die..

I can't continue living knowing that it's going to continue like _this_. I have to be comfortable in my own skin or else I'll end up killing myself. Somehow.

I need something to latch on to. The gaping hole left by Hojo and Her has to be filled with _something_. I have to find something to be passionate about. I must.

The proverbial 'reason to get up in the morning'.

I'm looking out the window of my room right now, thinking about everything and nothing at once. The fire in Midgar is under control, and dusk is creeping up on their valiant efforts to reconstruct. Soon they will all rest and continue in the morning.

I got angry. They are probably upset with me. I've made a mess of things. The doctor didn't ruin everything- I did. I was angry. I've told them too much. They will look at me differently. They will see me in a worse light because I've lost control and revealed too much of myself. They can torture me with this, rub it in my face and desert me.

When I had opened my eyes I immediately regretted these thoughts.

Cid is currently snoring in the chair, and Tifa… she has her head on the bed, over her folded hands. It was Cid's snoring that had originally awakened me.

There's a lump in my throat every time I look at this scene.

They had stayed. They didn't leave me alone at all. Even in my sleep.

A part of me _wants_ them to turn on me. It'll be easier. I'll be able to blame them and be hurt and retreat back into my head and never say anything ever again. This… This kindness… It's more difficult. A part of me is scared of the prospect of happiness.

Not so much happiness itself but the contrast it creates. By knowing contentment you know sorrow. If you're constantly down, you get used to it. It hurts more to stop taking a drug than it does to never take it at all, no matter how good it feels when you're high.

I don't want pain anymore, do you understand, Tifa? Do you get it, Cid?

Be mean to me. Hate me. Scorn me and drive me out. Anything but the fear that one day your kindness will be taken away from me. What's so obvious to everybody else is like a dream to me. I've had it all once and it was taken away. It could happen again in a blink of an eye.

…They'll wake up and they'll pity me..

No! They're not like that. I want to believe it.

I _must_ believe it because I don't have any strength left not to. These are good people. They are my friends. They are the friends of Vincent that lives in the days after Meteor. They are my _friends_.

I take in a shaky breath.

I want to dare to dream.

I want to dare think that the friendship I once shared is repeatable. That the Vincent I envy as an arrogant Turk is still somewhere inside.

'Not entirely human anymore?' Well, I'm still human enough to get angry at that confession. Still human enough to wish I wasn't, sometimes.

A knock on the door, and it nearly falls over. I notice now that it was torn off one hinge and is hanging precariously from the other. How did that happen? How unperceptive of me.

Tifa stirs, and because I don't know what to do I turn away and look intently out the window.

My ears paint every step: She hastily gets up and heads to the door. Lifting it so it can turn on its one-remaining hinge, she opens it and whispers to the person on the other side.

"Yes? Oh, hello."

"What's his temperature?" I hear the physician on the other side. I think there's a tremor in his voice. I may have scared him a little too much. Tifa mutters 'Just a moment' and starts towards me again.

Should I turn to face her? Then she might be afraid to check my temperature and it'll be awkward. But it doesn't feel right deceiving her like this.

Ah-

Too slow, Valentine. Her hand feels cool and soft against my forehead. A foreign feeling, that. Only when she removes her hand do I realize that I had stopped breathing.

Just like Tifa. No questions, no bells and whistles. She just does what needs to be done with nothing stopping her. Not even my reticent nature.

"He's much better." She says when she's at the door again. I'm afraid I lost my senses there for a moment.

I can still feel her hand on my forehead. How peculiar.

I'm looking out the window. I don't know what else to do.

I'm relieved. Since I woke up I feel like a million pounds have been lifted from my heart. As though there was a great boulder stopping it, and now it is gone.

Will this feeling stay? Can my heart even contain joy anymore? Sometimes I wonder if my heart is not unlike a strainer. The bigger, heavier feelings like grief and guilt stay, while the smaller, fleeting moments of joy and contentment slip through the holes.

I never expect to be happy. I never really did. Happiness is not a location one can reach, I believe. It is a journey.

I hope to be _content_. That is my goal. To find a way to live with myself in such a way that allows me not to hate myself _all _the time. I want to be able to sit down with myself and think without ending in a self-loathing spiral. That'll be a novelty indeed.

"Morning, sunshine." Tifa says. She comes to my side and as though reading my thoughts- puts her hand on my forehead again. Her gentle smiles urges the corners of my mouth up. I told you that her smile is tricky that way.

She brushes her hand against my forehead to push my hair out of my face. An intoxicating motion.

I don't dwell on it, though. I'm so emotionally drained right now that I wouldn't even want to admit being _hungry_ lest it cause undue grief.

You know when you mix colors together and end up with this ugly gray? And no matter how much of one color you'll add, it won't change? I feel that my emotions have reached that gray. I cannot tell one from the other and I have no idea what I feel right now.

"I have a question for you." She says quietly. I think she's whispering, but I can hear her fine. I give her an approach look. She asks,

"Why do you sleep with one hand under the pillow?" Her tone implies that she might know the answer. I will answer it anyway.

"I keep my gun under the pillow when there are no… _allies_ around."

She smiles wider, "Thought so."

After a moment she adds almost cautiously, "Are you all right?"

Let's see:

Catharsis. That's what it's called.

So many fears released in that fateful moment. So much I need to learn.

I feel as though the simple admission of friendship had filled me with the potential of new strength. I feel like I… Well, maybe not take on the _world_, but more take over a room sized portion of it without fear.

Without fear.

Or at least with the knowledge that should I fall… _When_ I fall… Someone might be there to catch me, or at least point and laugh, which is almost as good.

No, I don't know what I'm going to do now. I have no idea. That still scares me and causes my stomach to knot. But it's not as bad as before.

I feel like a sailor who'd come to the end of the river only to discover that it is not a dead end, but simply a bend in the road and after that bend lays the sea.

The hunger isn't gone, not by a long shot. But at least I know how to feed it now. The hunger is loneliness, the cure: Friendship. Such a small thing. Such a large admission. I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how I didn't get it until now.

Even if I were to lose their friendship in the future, I will have memories with me. Isn't all we have, in the end, right?

I may have lost my life and my time, but I still have the memories, right? The good memories should give you the strength to proceed and the strength to outshine the bad memories. You should never be in a position in which you wish you never had them.

When we are dying and breathing our last breath… All our possessions, our friends, our struggles… In the end the memory of them is all we have.

Change in a one-step-at-a-time process. However, one must be willing to take that first step. That one step that leads to so many others.

One step at a time.

There will be pain, oh, yes, there will be pain.

But I'm willing to face it.

I think… I think…

I'm strong enough.

I think I can face what needs to come.

I'm scared of change, I know. But I think Tifa, Cid and Marlene are important enough to me that I'll be willing to change for them.

I think.

I hope.

I want them to be.

It will take more than a day and most likely even more than a year. Not to mention I have _no_ idea where to start. I want to get over this. I want to feel my lungs with fear and exhale. I want to live with no fear.

_No fear_.

The sea is vast before me, and I am but a sailor. Their kind words- their _friendship_- will be the wind in my sails.

One day I will reach the shore and disembark as new man. Perhaps even a man who knows what the future holds. Perhaps I'll never know, but I now understand that the journey is the important part.

At least, I think.

I am not prone to thinking correctly.

I want to learn to change. I want to make myself worthy of their friendship. I want to change so that _when_ they learn to know me, I'll be someone _worth_ knowing. I want to make _sure_ they don't turn away.

I turn towards her. She's still waiting for my reply with this curious tilt of her head. It's been several long moments since she asked. I try smiling. I fail. She gives me this weird look.

"Yes. I am well." I answer. Take it easy, Valentine. One step at a time. Still can't smile without making it into a sarcastic smirk.

It's just what comes out when I try.

She gives me this huge radiant smile then to my surprise she throws her arms around my neck in a hug so tight it's hard to breathe.

"I'm glad." She whispers, "I'm really glad." She pulls back after a long moment. If I'm not blushing right now than I'm not a man at all. This is Tifa we're talking about.

"Ah-" What was I going to say?

She has the most amazing smile, this woman.

Oh, right,

"Tell the… err… _person_ that I apologize for losing my temper."

She chuckles and tells me she will. Then she plays with her belt and her smile wanes a little. There's something on her mind? Is she disappointed with me? My mouth goes dry.

"Listen…" She starts. I not sure I want to hear this. "Cid says he's going to take the Highwind around the world to see what needs to be done." Oh? Where is this going? "I think you should go with him." There it is.

She looks up to meet my eye. She's determined, but cautious. Is she worried about a refusal?

"I'm going to stay here and open that orphanage." She adds. "I think it'll be good for you." Ah. She does not want me to feel like she's kicking me out?

It's ok, Tifa, I understand; this _will_ be a good opportunity for me. A good chance to see the parts of the world I never got to see before. Maybe it'll get some things in perspective.

Maybe I could find out a few things about the people I used to know? I'm not sure if I _want_ to find them. They'll be very old, won't they? I can think of only a handful of people I would actually like to seek out, and only one or two I'd actually like to meet.

I don't want to leave you, Tifa, but I really don't want to go into Midgar right now. I don't think I'll be able to help much, nor will I be able to contain my unreliable emotions before such wanton destruction. I think it might strike too close to home.

"I think you deserve a vacation." She stresses with conviction and a nod. I'm not arguing with you, Tifa. I don't think it's a _bad_ idea. I'm just a little uncertain what steps I should take. I think this is a shaky time for me.

I need to figure out who Vincent Valentine _is_: Not who he was _until_ now, not who he was as a Turk or a Yakuza boy. Not the animal Hojo made of him or the beast Chaos wants him to be. I need to find Vincent Valentine who lives in the world after Meteor. The Vincent Valentine who was there when the world was about to end and who doesn't mind certain kids. I want to see Vincent being alone without being lonely for perhaps the first time in his life since Her.

Her?

_Lucrecia_. Lucrecia Crescent who chose another man over me. There, I'm not afraid of you anymore, Lucrecia. I understand why you didn't choose me. Maybe this is the first time I've realized this: You were never mine to sway.

Holy, this isn't my week, is it?

"Well?" She looks concerned. She takes my flesh hand in both of hers. Her hands feel soft and warm. I can feel her nails as they graze my skin.

I repress a sigh. I must fight. I must fight to regain my strength. For my friends, so I'll be able to have friends. So I'll be worthy.

If it won't hurt, I won't learn. I want to learn- I want to grow. If I won't I will die. Evolution, you know.

"Very well. I will go with Cid." Say I.

"That's it? You'll part with us so easily?" She withdraws her hands, a smile behind her eyes.

What? That's not what I meant.

"No."

There's a pause in which she gives me another funny look. I guess need to explain myself again. Get used to it, Vincent.

"I…" What do I want to say? That I would stay here with her if she asked me to? That's highly uncharacteristic of me. I'm sure there are certain expectations people have as to my behavior. "I am loath to part with you."

Why do I sound so stuffy all the time? Am I stupid?

"Oh." She seems mock-disappointed. She turns her back to me. "If _that's_ how it is."

A smile threatens. She uses her most indignant tone when she says,

"Vincent is _so_ cold. Sometimes I wonder if he cares at all. Chocolate is all he likes me for." There's humor in the tone, but I can almost imagine a pinch of actual concern in it.

I want to tell her that I _do_ care.

They've won, I've given in and admitted to myself that I care.

What does she want me to do to _show_ I care? I don't want to do something formal. I want feeling in it. How do I do that? My mother used to say that actions speak louder than words, but I don't have anything I can offer her. There's no token of friendship I can give her, nor do I have any powerful words. There's only one thing that is mine that I can give these days.

I want to say it, and I _will_.

"Tifa." I need to do this carefully. I need to do this one thing- if nothing else in my life- right. I _want_ to do this right.

She turns to me with a curious look, her arms crossed over her chest. She makes a little 'hmm?' sound so that I might continue.

I take in a breath. No, not good enough. I know I'm messed up, so let's do this in some sort of overly-complicated way that'll give me the courage to say something as simple as 'I care about you'.

To care is to show weakness, but I will trust all my vulnerability to your heart. I know that with you the cracks in my soul can turn into strengths. I know you will not throw it in my face.

_I trust you_.

Don't just think it; s_ay it_!

I steady myself and steady my breath.

"I promise you this:" No, standing isn't good enough.

I kneel at her feet.

She looks very surprised. The fading sunlight from the window is giving her a halo of light where it meets her hair.

Don't dwell on it, look down and just say it.

"I promise that if you are _ever_ in trouble, I will come. I _swear_. It doesn't matter where I am. I will come for you if you need me."

I'm saying I'm your friend. Even if Cloud left you'll have a protector. I'm saying I'll try and protect you because I _want_ to. Because I respect your decisions and I'll stand by your side no matter what you decide to do. I'm saying I care. I'm just too backwards to say it, Tifa.

Sorry.

I dare to look up at her and I can't breath. That smile is _out of this world_.

Did _I_ just make her smile like that? I'm a lucky bastard, to be at the receiving end of this light.

Did… did I do well? Is this smile saying I conveyed the message? It's not a mocking smile, is it?

Couldn't be.

Even the sun pales before this radiance.

I have to do things my way, and my way is stupid and convoluted.

'Cut me some slack' as I heard Cid say.

That smile will be burnt into my memory as if with a brand. Whatever happens in the future, I know that this smile was for me and because of me. Have you ever felt anything so sweet?

I've made my friend smile. I put a little mental checkmark by the list of things I need to remember about friends.

Smiling is good. Check.

She leans towards me, as I am still on one knee before her and carefully, slowly, she reaches for me. I don't move and I try not to tense. Is she going to smack me upside the head for being silly as I've seen her do to Cid on occasion?

No, instead she places warm, sublime hands on the top of my head and stoops to plant a simple kiss on my forehead.

She smells like courage. I don't know how, but she does. Really.

…

There were a few long moments just now where I could not think a thing.

She's smiling brilliantly as she says,

"I know you'll be back, and I accept your promise."

…

Holy, even chocolate doesn't feel this good.

…

"F-ck Vincent," Cid breaks the moment, looking all groggy, "Can't you do anything without being so damn melodramatic?"

Tifa then smacks him upside the head. He swears a blue streak.

There might not be a lot of light outside, but there's plenty inside.

I'm not alone.

For a moment…

I'm content.

* * *

* * *

...

I think… That's it.  
I don't think there's going to be an epilogue.  
But I do have a bunch of things to talk about here, for all those who've been following the story from the beginning, for those who are lurking and for those who might read it in the future.

For those who've been with me from the start and those who joined half-way through:

**Thank you**.

I started this little endeavor scared and lacking in confidence. I was certain I've lost my touch and my style and thought I should never write again. You helped me realize that just because my style changed didn't mean it was gone, or that the change was necessarily for the worse.  
Looking back on it now I feel that I've grown. From the last time I wrote to the beginning of Dark Outside, as well as from chapter to chapter. Your kindness and your criticism, I feel, helped me grow as a person as well as a writer. Maybe I'm taking this too personally, but this story drew heavily from my emotions, and is very close to my heart.

I tried to approach is as more than a fanfic, I tried to make this into something that can touch people and make them feel and think about their own lives. I don't know if I succeeded, but I know I gave it my best shot at the time I wrote it.

I must admit I'm not entirely pleased with this last chapter. Endings are so difficult, and so are beginning. Without a good beginning people won't continue reading, but a bad ending can spoil an entire good story. Hopefully I've left you all with a good taste in your mouth and a warm feeling I your stomach. A good story is like a good meal- each course needs to have its purpose, and the desert needs to be just right!

This story has gotten more than 300 reviews! I feel truly unworthy. You do me great honor.  
As promised; I want to get you all something nice! But I don't know what… I Indigo Angel and a few others wanted a sequel, and Myhi said that fanfic dares are popular these days.  
So I'm still thinking what can be a nice treat! I really want to make people happy because over 300 reviews certainly made me happy! Also over 17k in hits (not individual, of course!) makes me a very happy camper… sob thank you _so much_, people!

I am working on a sequel, regardless, though I can't promise anything regarding when I'll start uploading it, considering I have about one page written so far. The idea for it is still growing and changing, and so far involves glowing juice, an old record player and the mysterious Aleonde.  
I expect it to be about as action light as this story is, and just about the same mix of drama/angst/humor with more romance. Let me know if you have any specific preferences.

Now that leads me to my next point; The VinxTifa promise in the beginning turned out a lot more subtle than I expected. I promise that in the sequel they'll actually get together. I just thought it wouldn't be right for them to end up together here because  
A: I don't think Vincent's in any condition for commitment of that kind,  
B: The whole Tifa and Cloud thing is too much in the way and,  
C: It would clash with Advent Children, and I really wanted this to feel like it could fit in the same universe.

Oh, if any of you are in Canada or planning on arriving in August, come see me at the _Anime Evolution _convention in Vancouver (SFU, specifically)! I'm probably going to go as Vincent, if I can pull the off the costume. So if you see a female, short and silly-looking Vincent, it's probably me. sheepish grin Otherwise I'm probably going to go in my Kenshin shirt, as I always do…

Please let me know what you though and felt throughout the story and through it's conclusion. I hope you enjoyed the ride and I hope to have fulfilled my goal of affecting people.

Much like Vincent; without your help I wouldn't have had the courage to finish this story. In a way Vincent and me have gone down a similar path, though mine isn't as sexy. sweatdrop.

The thank you list (In no particular order): Darknightdesitny, LilTigre, The Tiramisu of Impending Doom, BabyGurl278, DemonSurfer, raggedywings, Sonicron, SilverPurity, Cal reflector, Erialti, darkmagnolia, Mystic Dragon Eyes, Yumesuta, Feather Wolf, Rey de las Ardillas, Mythrand, Tirnam'Bas, Bloody Angel X, ChibiMatchMaker, Scarlet Dewdrops, Storm-chan, Tsuri Kato, Wyntir Rose, Dragon Girl323, Indigo Angel, xLaevateinx, Sesshomaru's Princess, Switchback, Just Jill & Songwind.

Also thanks to all you lurkers who read, and perhaps even enjoyed the story.

There's so much more I want to say, but this is probably getting too long already.

_Thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart_.


End file.
